#he just answers that it's an old friend and that's it

[lost-romantique]

Ghostfuckers Massive Lore Dump & More...

I'm stuck at work doing the graveyard shift, so I decided to make a list of all the lore that we learned in Ghostfuckers. Plus some extra cuz my fave character is Blitz, and I love him...

It has been one month since the events of Apology Tour. Blitz and Stolas have been NO CONTACT for one whole month.

I.M.P is on the verge of bankruptcy due to Blitzø’s poor spending habits. Past Due Notices are pasted on the whiteboard. Millie confirms later on that Blitzø has not paid her in a month.

(Honestly same, I also cope by buying stupid shit, but sweetie you gotta pay your employees)

Confirmation that Blitzø (at least by the beginning of Ghostfuckers) has given up on pursuing a relationship with Stolas.

Millie confirmed that there is only Heaven or Hell, there is no such thing as Purgatory. And there is no such thing as Ghosts.

The fact that Millie had to stress it out several times, even to Blitz that ghosts don't exist... is insane.

Confirmation that Blitzø is still following M&M on their dates, and that once again... Blitz sees love and relationships as a transaction.

Blitzø’s illiteracy and possibly having dyslexia is the gift that keeps on giving.

(Fun fact: Brandon Rogers is confirmed dyslexic)

Confirmation that Blitzø has genuine fears of M&M getting hurt when they do go on missions.

Blitzø’s mom is confirmed to have died from the fire, just in case it wasn't obvious already.

Confirmation that Moxxie met Blitz before he met Millie, and by extension, Blitzø adopted Loona before he met Moxxie.

Further confirmation that Blitzø owning his own business as an imp makes him an outlier.

The fact that Blitzø has to stress to Millie that he does in fact own his own business, but she keeps denying the possibility that, that even exists is insane.

Confirmation that I.M.P began the moment Blitzø was in possession of the grimoire. Therefore, Blitzø had Millie, Moxxie, and Loona to provide for by the time he met Stolas

So much of Hell's Hierarchy and the suppression of imps in general, is ingrained into Millie that she genuinely believes that she isn't deserving to work in an old ass building located in the Pride Ring (where the sinners live)

Confirmation that imps (and by extension hellhounds) are expected to work for someone higher up, whether it be the Sins, the Ars Goetia, or even other sinners and hellborn

Confirmation once again that Blitzø is genuinely considered an outlier among imps. Him owning a business gives him a sense of prestige among others of his own kind.

Confirmation that Millie's entire life is all thanks to Blitzø: a husband, a career, a future, a best friend. ❤️

Further confirmation of the existance of Blitzø’s mask. (People were genuinely surprised when they realized that there was more to Blitzø than asshole)

Confirmation of the existance of infestor demons that are presumably from the Envy Ring.

Confirmation that Cash Fuckzo was an abusive piece of shit that not only manipulated his own child, but physically abused him when he had fresh burn marks on his wrist

Confirmation that Cash Fuckzo was the man that kept Blitzø and Fizz apart for so long, essentially the reason why these men hated each other for 15 years.

Confirmation that even seeing M&M happy and in love genuinely hurts him because (in his mind) he could never have what they have.

Confirmation that the events of Seeing Stars hurt Blitzø’s feelings and reignites that fear his daughter hates him.

The amount of remorse, guilt, and regret this man feels is so palpable that it can power an entire fucking city.

By the end of the episode Blitzø makes a promise to Millie to stop trying to become their "third". Millie is shocked by his answer and genuinely did not expect it.

Blitzø confirms to Millie that he does indeed have feelings for Stolas, but he's aware enough to know that he still fucked things up with him.

The character development that Blitzø showed this episode was actually insane, and I am so proud of him. He has a long way to go before he could forgive himself for the fire and hate himself less, but nonetheless I am so proud of him.

Also, in case you were wondering my favorite part of the episode was Millie's apology to Blitzø.

[dorabellingham]

First day of school

warning: none

characters: jude x mom!reader x baby boy

summary: when it's your child's first day of school but you're very attached

request: yes

may contain spelling and translation errors!

It was a day of mixed emotions at the Bellingham house. Benjamin's first day of school had arrived, and you were ready to accompany the little boy to school in Madrid. Ben, only five years old, had a look of doubt and fear on his face. He understood a few words in spanish, since he had contact with the language on a daily basis, but his natural language was English, and this barrier only made him more apprehensive.

The morning began with careful preparation. You chose Benji's favorite backpack, with dinosaur characters, and Jude prepared a special snack with your son's favorite snacks. However, the expression on the little boy's face remained the same: he was not at all excited.

When you finally left the house, with the little boy holding the hand of each of his parents, Ben looked at you with a pleading look, as if trying to say without words: "Why are you doing this to me?". On the way, you and Jude exchanged encouraging glances, knowing you were making the right decision, but also feeling your hearts ache.

As soon as you arrived at the preschool, Jude got down to Benji's level and explained.

—Benji, you're going to make lots of little friends here. Mommy and daddy will be waiting for you at the end of the day, and I promise that if you're a brave boy, we'll go to the Bernabéu on Saturday. How about that?

He tried to sound as enthusiastic as possible, hoping that would cheer up the little boy, but he just looked at his father with those big, sad brown eyes, clutching his backpack tightly.

You also got down next to your husband and caressed your son's little face.

—It'll only be a few hours, my love. Mommy will be here before you know it. And look, you'll get to play and learn new things! Remember how you always ask about things? Here you'll get lots of answers.

You gave him an encouraging smile, but your little boy didn't seem convinced.

—I don't want to stay, mommy. I don't want to.

He repeated softly, while holding his parents' hands tightly.

The teacher, who was watching patiently, approached, smiling warmly.

—Hola, Ben! Mi nombre es Carlos. ¿Te gustan los dinosaurios?

He asked, pointing to the boy's backpack.

Benjamin looked at him suspiciously, but nodded slowly. He understood a little of what the teacher was saying, but he still felt lost.

—¡Genial! Tenemos juguetes de dinosaurios aquí adentro. ¿Quieres ver?

The teacher continued in spanish, trying to gain his trust.

You gave your son a gentle push to encourage him, but Benji was still hesitant. Jude, noticing his son's anguish, gave him an understanding smile.

—You'll do great, champ. Just a few hours, and then you can tell us everything you did, okay?

After a few more attempts at convincing, Benjamin slowly let go of your hand and followed the teacher with small, uncertain steps. You felt a lump in your throat as you watched your son enter the preschool for the first time without you or Jude around, while your husband lightly squeezed your shoulder in support. It was a big step, both for Benji and for you.

However, as you began to walk away from the entrance, you could hear Benji calling.

—Mommy! Daddy!

He had tears in his eyes, holding a toy dinosaur that the teacher had given him. Your heart broke when you heard your son’s call, and you looked at Bellingham with a look of despair.

Jude took a step towards the entrance, but then turned to you and spoke softly:

—We have to trust that he’ll be okay. It’s the first step, remember?

You nodded, your eyes full of tears, but took a deep breath and waved to your son, smiling and blowing kisses from afar. Benji looked at them, confused and sad, before being taken back by the teacher, who was distracting him with the toys.

——

At home, you tried to distract yourselves, but you both found yourselves looking at your cell phones, waiting for any updates from school. For you, every minute felt like an eternity.

—Babe, I can’t take it anymore...

You murmured sadly as you rested your chin on his shoulder.

—Can we pick you up earlier, sweetheart? —Jude said, his large hands caressing your back. —I feel like they took a part of me.

Bored, you walked around the house, tidying up your son's toys and checking to see if his room was in order, as if that would help you feel more connected. Jude, on the other hand, kept himself busy with training videos, but with each notification, he quickly checked his phone.

Finally, after hours that seemed like days, the phone rang, and the school informed him that Ben was fine, although he had cried a little at first, which was normal for the first day. He had gradually fit in with the other children and was starting to feel more comfortable. You looked at each other, both sighing in relief.

—He's my son, it would be very difficult not to become popular on the first day.

The man gave an almost correct wink, he was finally learning.

—It doesn't even seem like you were crying half an hour ago, Jude Victor.

You said, laughing softly, but the feeling of relief was so gratifying.

When they went to pick up Benji, he ran into your arms, and Jude immediately picked him up, hugging him tightly.

—How was it, champ?

Jude asked with a smile, while Benji snuggled into his father’s chest.

—It was… weird. —Benji replied, still confused, but he seemed less sad. —The kids spoke differently.

You stroked your son’s curly hair and smiled.

—But you’re learning to understand what they say in spanish, aren’t you, my love?

Ben nodded slowly, looking a little more confident.

—The teacher gave me a dinosaur.

Jude laughed and looked at you.

—See? You even got a new dinosaur! You know, we’re going to the Bernabéu this weekend, like I promised. How about it?

The mini copy of Jude smiled a small but genuine smile when he heard that. He loved the stadium and the idea of ​​going there with his father always excited him. You crouched down next to Jude and looked into your son’s eyes.

—We’re so proud of you, Benji. You were so brave today.

You kissed his forehead, and he smiled back, finally relaxing.

As you walked to the car, Ben held his parents’ hands tightly, and you and Jude exchanged knowing, happy looks. You knew there would still be challenges, but that first day was the beginning of a new phase for your family.

[bloggerspam]

DPxYJ Haunted Mansion AU!

My gift fic for @pennerjones for our server's anniversary gift exchange! Dead Tired, background Dark Ages :)

===

"What the hell is that." Cassie scrunches her nose, looking up at the Mansion that looms before them.

"It looks like a Castle." Bart stuffs his face with more chips, seemingly unconcerned.

"It's more of a Mansion." Tim idly drawls.

"A Mansion that just showed up out of nowhere." Kon emphatically gestures at the broken gates that are swinging open on rusty hinges.

"To be fair," Bart has somehow acquired candy, though he probably just popped over to the nearest neighborhood to trick or treat, considering the day "We just showed up out of nowhere too."

It's Halloween, and Young Justice has been caught up with, of all things, a surprise cult.

They dispatched them quickly, thanks to support from Raven, but were still somehow caught in a summoning circle that popped them out here.

Here being a random forest, somewhere in…Tim checks his wrist computer, Illinois.

They were just about to fly home, the other three arguing on who gets first shift of carrying Tim, when the Mansion suddenly appeared.

"It looks abandoned." Tim idly looks around, checking the differences. Some trees had disappeared, and he isn't sure if that means space was made for the Mansion, or if the forest itself is a hallucination.

"We can always ask?" Bart dusts his hands, finally done with his food, heading towards the gates. "Do you think they have a bathroom I can borrow?"

"A Castle this old and abandoned would not have indoor plumbing." Cassie grumbles, following after him.

"I'm telling you, it's a Mansion." Tim corrects, but Kon simply pulls him after the other two.

"Don't!" A voice yells, frantic enough to make them all stop.

All of them, that is, except Bart.

"Shit." They turn to look, and there, floating and ethereal, is a boy. A young man, really.

He's their age, seemingly, late teens or early 20s. He's bout Cassie's height, with bright glowing hair. He's wearing a uniform similar to Alfred's butler garb, sharply dressed but no less rumpled. Even still, he looks beautiful, hair flowing like some invisible wind is blowing just for him.

His eyes, though, are a toxic green. They make Tim flinch at memories rising unbidden, but his expression is despondent, and almost wrecked, and it softens the harsh glow.

"Sorry," Kon turns on the charm, walking over to the other man, "We didn't mean to trespass, it's just that this place wasn't here two minutes ago and—"

Kon stops short as a glowing green shield is erected in place of the broken gate, separating Bart from the three of them. They instantly go on alert, Kon banging on the barrier with a loud thump!

"Hey!" Cassie yells, jumping in to punch just as ineffectively at the barrier, "Give him back!"

"You're heroes, right?" The man touches down just behind Bart, who is banging at the barrier from his side, "What year is it?"

"It's 2014." Tim answers, scanning the rest of their surroundings.

The man freezes, eyes widening, before shaking his head. "Doesn't matter. Listen, Listen!"

They don't. Well, Tim does, but only halfheartedly.

Tim notes that shield doesn't extend above the gate, or past it, really. Only the entrance. The rest, the man seems to be relying on the crumbled wall surroundings to keep them out. Tim tosses a batarang and finds that it flies over just fine.

"You can't step over the border," the man puts up his hands, palms down as if placating wild animals, "Your friend here is—I'll try and get him back out but he needs to—wait!"

It's too late.

Tim has already shot out a grapple, using it as leverage to jump-climb his way over the wall. Kon and Cassie already jumping over the wall and all of them barrelling towards Bart and the man keeping him hostage.

"Fuck. I should have known a hero bearing an S could fly." The man says forlornly.

Tim tosses a bola that shoots open, only instead of capturing the man it goes through. Kon and Cassie grab Tim and Bart, flying straight up, but bang into an invisible barrier.

Cassie accidentally lets go, and is about to catch him but is beat to the punch.

Tim lands softly in strong, solid arms, held bridal style and staring up into soft features and masculine brow.

"Sorry," The man looks tired now, resigned, and that more than anything makes Tim stop squirming.

He sets Tim down gently, waiting as the others cautiously land nearby, all of them tense and disliking the idea of being trapped.

"I told you, you can't step over the border." The man sighs, covering his face with his hands and groaning into them, "I knew I should have come earlier."

"Why can't we leave?" Cassie demands, fists up and braced for a fight.

"Because you stepped over the border." His voice is irritated, "Like I told you not to."

Honestly, Tim doesn't blame him. They did after all, not listen. But.

"You had our friend." Tim quietly growls.

"Temporarily." The man rolls his eyes, hands on his hips. "Getting one of you permission to leave would have been easy. Four of you is a little trickier."

"Why?" Kon demands, crossing his arms.

"Because Vlad is a self absorbed lunatic," The man huffs, "and obsessive."

That answers their questions, but explains nothing. The team share a look, whilst the man starts mumbling to himself about amulets and knockturns. Whatever that means.

"Danny!" Two voices, young and childish, overlap each other and freeze them all.

"Heeeeeey kiddos." Danny, apparently, greets the newcomers after giving the team a warning glare.

It's two children, as expected. One dressed as a pirate, Captain's hat and everything, the other is a girl in a pink shirt and overalls covered in patches. The pirate, a boy, is stumbling on a peg leg with an abundance of missing teeth. The girl has pigtails and big buck teeth. They're both smiling widely at Danny, hands reaching up for uppies.

"Didn't I say to wait for me at the mausoleum?" Danny hefts them both up, spinning around as the children giggle.

"But a Captain's nothin' without his first mate!" The pirate boy waves his little hook, thankfully not real, around.

The girl rolls her eyes. "I told him you got work to do, but Youngblood wouldn't listen!"

"Boxlunch," Youngblood growls, "tattlers walk the plank you know! Besides. you wanted to see if there was any fresh blood anyway."

Boxlunch squeaks, looking up at Danny guiltily. Danny sighs, placing them both on the ground and kneeling down to their level.

"I know the Living fascinate you, but we're trying to get keep them out, remember?" Danny's voice is gentle, admonishing. The two children twist at their hands, looking down and guilty.

"I guess we don't want more dead to crowd the place. A ship's only got so much room after all…" Youngblood agrees, even though he clearly knows there's an abundance of room. He looks away, tipping his hat down to cover his face.

"Sorry Danny, I keep forgetting—" Boxlunch starts tearing up, biting her lip and gripping at her overalls.

Danny shushes her, holds them both in his arms to comfort. "Ghosts forget, it's in your nature."

Tim jolts. Ghosts? He shares a look with Cassie, the nearest one, and the horror on her face mirrors his. Kon and Bart aren't doing any better.

"Dead men tell no tales." Youngblood sniffles, "But will you read us a bedtime story?"

"Always, bud. I still—I still have to watch the gate, take care of these guys, but I'll be right up okay?"

"Aye aye, Danny." Youngblood jumps off, wiping his eyes with his non-hook holding hand before addressing the team, "Try to survive!"

"Hope we never see you again." Boxlunch waves to the team, sincerely. The two of them then fly off towards the side of the Mansion in the distance.

Danny watches them with a pained expression, all the way until they fade out. Ghosts.

They only looked about 7 or 8.

Tim wants to throw up.

"What did we walk into?" Kon's voice is low, regretful.

"Welcome to the Keep." Danny sighs, eyes flashing green at them when he stands back up, "You're gonna have a hell of a time trying to get out before the night ends."

Read the rest here on AO3!

[dancinglikebutterflywings]

Chosen Appa | Wooyoung

- Pairing: Jung Wooyoung x Single-mom!Reader.

- Requested by: no one

- Requests: Open for now. Please read my requesting guidelines before requesting.

- Warnings: single mum, hints at readers ex-husband being a cheater and an overall douchebag, best friends to lovers.

- Word Count: 1,205

- Taglist: Open. Send an ask or fill out the Tag List Form.

Wooyoung Masterlist | ATEEZ Masterlist

Walking back into her small living room, Y/N is met with silence. The babbling sounds of her 15-month-old baby girl, who usually keeps herself entertained with her toys in her play pen while Y/N does the housework, has gone quiet. Assuming her little one might have fallen asleep, she peeks into the playpen only to discover that her daughter is missing.  

Panic sets in as Y/N searches every corner of the apartment, trying to convince that her baby isn’t capable of climbing out on her own yet. Her eyes dart to the entrance, where she notices the stroller and the diaper bag are missing. Relief washes over her and is quickly replaced with annoyance as she picks up the phone and calls the only person brave and sneaky enough to kidnap her baby in broad daylight. 

He quickly answers but before he can start his yapping, Y/N yells at him. “Yah! Jung Wooyoung! You better bring my baby back right now.”  

“No,” he says defiantly. “You’ve been under a lot of stress lately with finding a new job, the divorce and your soon to be ex-husband being a total asshole. She’s coming with me to the studio while you have a few hours to yourself," he insists.  "Don’t worry; she’ll be safe and sound. You know everyone here loves her.” 

Y/N can almost hear the smirk in his voice, and it only fuels her irritation further. “You can’t just take her without asking me first! What if something happens? What if she gets scared?” 

“Y/N,” he interrupts, his voice firm yet gentle, “You know I won't let anything happen to her. I protect her as if she's my own." 

"Fine, but if you pull a stunt like this again, you'll never see her again," she warns her best friend. "You got that? I'll make Yeonjun her godfather. You’ll be no one to her." 

"You really trust Yeonjun with Hannie?" he asks, skeptically. 

"He wouldn't kidnap her without me knowing," she defends their mutual friend.  

Wooyoung chuckles on the other end of the call, the sound brings some comfort to her. “You know, I think you’re just jealous because I didn’t kidnap you for the day too. Stop with the housework and enjoy this time to yourself. Take a walk, go get some lunch, do a little shopping.”  

Y/N sighs, her shoulders slumping as she leans against the kitchen counter. The weight of her responsibilities presses down on her. Never did she think she would be jobless, almost divorced and a single mother. But four months ago, everything came crashing down. Her husband’s mistress turned up at their door, crying and pregnant. She left, losing her job in the process, and moved in with her mother who’s been helping support her and Hannie while she finds a new job so she can get an apartment. But finding a job was proving harder than she expected. She’s seriously considering the job her mum offered her at the small restaurant she owns. 

Y/N feels a twinge of guilt for wanting a moment to herself. “I know, but she’s my baby. I can’t help but worry.”  

“Worrying is part of being a mother, but you also need to take care of yourself,” Wooyoung replies, his voice softening.  

Y/N bites her lip, contemplating his words. He’s right, of course. The past few months have been a whirlwind of stress, and she hasn’t had a moment to breathe. “Okay, but I want updates and photos. Text me every hour, or I swear I’ll come down to that studio and take her back myself.” 

"I promise to send you plenty of pictures," he assures her. "Hannie, say see you later, eomma," he adds, moving the phone closer to Hannie.  

Hannie babbles into the phone until a clear word breaks through. "Appa!" 

Y/N’s eyes widen with shock. Hannie just said her first word. Her heart swells with a mix of pride and disbelief. “Did she just say ‘Appa’?” Y/N asks, her voice barely above a whisper, as if she’s afraid to break the special moment. 

"I've been trying to get her to say eomma," Wooyoung admits after putting his phone on speaker, disbelief and pride in his voice also. He quickly ends the call and calls her back on video call. 

She quickly answers and the first thing to pop up on her phone screen is her little girl, her bright eyes sparkling with innocence and joy as she looks past the phone at wooyoung. She’s always imagined the day her daughter would speak her first word, and now it was directed at someone else. Someone that wants nothing to do with her. The reality of her situation hits her like a wave, and she feels a lump form in her throat. 

“Appa,” Hannie keeps saying, her tiny voice filled with joy as she looks up at Wooyoung, her little hands reaching out wanting him to pick her up. "Look, Hannie, it's eomma," Wooyoung says, turning the phone to show Hannie her mother on the screen. For a brief moment, she captures the baby's attention, and Y/N can see the flicker of recognition in her daughter’s eyes. "Can you say eomma?" he playfully encourages, trying to elicit another word from his goddaughter.  

Hannie giggles, her focus shifting back to him, her laughter like music that fills the room. "Appa!" she exclaims again. 

"I think she's calling you Appa," Y/N says, the realization dawning on her. When she thinks about it, Wooyoung has present in Hannie's life more than her own father. Especially since Y/N and her ex-husband ended their relationship. Hannie's father hasn't had anything to do with her since. 

 "Me?" he asks surprised, turning the phone camera back to him. "Why would she call me Appa?" he questions not really thinking about it. 

"Maybe she sees me as a father figure," Y/N tries to convince herself, but deep down, she knows that Hannie is forming connections, and Wooyoung is a significant part of her life. 

"I mean, I’ve been around a lot since you and—" He stops himself, the mention of her ex-husband hanging in the air. 

Y/N swallows hard, the lump in her throat growing. "You have been," she admits, her voice growing softer as she thinks about it. "You’ve been a great, Wooyoung. I don’t know what I would do without you." 

He smiles, but it’s tinged with something more serious. "I just want to be there for both of you. You know that, right? You and Hannie mean the world to me." 

"And you mean the world to us," she replies with a warm smile, her heart swelling with affection. In that moment, she realizes that there could be something more between her, her daughter and her best friend. Wooyoung has stepped into a role that neither of them expected, but it feels right. 

"I don't think this is a conversation that should be spoken about over the phone," he says after a moment of silence. "I'll bring Hannie home now and we can talk more." 

She nods, a small smile playing on her lips and ends the call. She rushes around the room, picking up toys and putting away the play pen. anticipating Wooyoung and Hannie's return home. 

©️ 2024 dancinglikebutterflywings - do not copy, modify and/or repost anywhere.

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[gottalovetumbler]

𝑫𝒐𝒆𝒔 𝒉𝒆 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖?

¹⁴¹ ˣ ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ

𝐷𝑟𝑎𝑏𝑏𝑙𝑒 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒 𝑜𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑎𝑔𝑎𝑖𝑛!! 𝑆𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑎𝑙𝑎𝑟𝑚 🎺🎺

𝙸𝚗𝚏𝚘: 𝙵𝚎𝚖!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛, 𝚌𝚞𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚛𝚎𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚎𝚖𝚒-𝚊𝚋𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚙𝚊𝚜𝚝, 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚙𝚑𝚢𝚜��𝚌𝚊𝚕, 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚕/𝚟𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚕, 𝚍𝚎𝚏 𝙽𝙾𝚃 𝚋𝚊𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚜 😅, 𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚈/𝙽 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙻/𝙽, 𝚢𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐

——— 🚔🚨🚓 ———

-Your boyfriend wasn’t the best man and you knew that. That didn’t stop you from loving him. You just learned that sometimes you needed to love him from a distance, to save yourself heartache.

-When he got mad, he got mean.

-It was your 3 month anniversary. It’s cheesy and embarrassing to celebrate such a short time together you know.

-It’s also your first ever relationship and your hoping to maybe even have your first kiss by the end of the night. If things get risqué that is 😉 (lmao)

-You were so excited and blinded by love in fact, that you even got said boyfriend a bouquet. A candy bar one. A gorgeous lily bouquet caught your eye but you know he’d flip his lid over you insinuating he’s a feminine man

-You pull up to the gate, full of smiles. Of course you were, how were you supposed to know that a base trespasser escaped in the exact make and model of the car you were driving not even 15 minutes before?

-Of course you don’t question it when the guards greet you confused before buzzing you in, not even asking for your credentials

-You didn’t question it because that had to mean that your boyfriend talked about you so much, his buddies are able to recognize you!

-You park at what looks like the main building and climb out of the car, smiling brighter than ever before. He must tell all his friends how much he loves you, how much he misses you when he’s on base and he also has to show them lots of pictures. How else would they recognize you?

-The pep in your step is paused as a man taps you on the shoulder.

-‘Hello luv, were you by chance drivin tha’ car right there?’ A kind eyed man asks, pointing at your car. You answer in the affirmative, happiness never leaving your eyes.

-He tells you to follow him real quick and oh gosh! I wonder if Chad has a surprise for me!?!?

-Your joy begins to fainter as your lead from the big building to a smaller, run down one. All concrete with minimal windows and lots of rooms

-Your led to a room towards the back and step in. Confused, you try to turn and question the nice man when you’re shoved into a chair. The gift and your bag are torn from your hands and thrown to the wall.

-In-front of you is not in fact the nice man. No he’s standing in the corner staring at you, accompanied by a man with mutton chops and one with a Mohawk.

-The only thing you can see clearly on the man who is in-front of you, are his eyes. Stark white against the eye-black and balaclava

-‘Who are you?’

-‘Y/N’ his stare somehow becomes meaner. ‘L/N’

-‘Ok, Y/N L/N. Wanna tell us how you got out and then tell us why the hell you came back?’

-‘Haha…… is this some joke from Chad? Cause it’s not very funny. Can you just tell him I don’t wanna joke around right now, I just wanna see him after-‘

-The man’s large hand slams down on the table with force that shouldn’t be humanly possible. All feelings are now replaced with fear. So much fear in-fact that your eyes begin to tear up.

-Growing up, your dad had a habit of getting mad at you when you did/got something wrong. His reaction brought you right back to being 8 years old again.

-‘Do you think this is some fuckin’ joke? You snuck onto this base and attempted to break into the armory. Is that fuckin’ funny to you? Are you that dumb?’

-Fear grips you and all you can do is repeat the same mantra from your childhood. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. No sir I don’t.’ Over and over, tears streaming down your face.

-Growing up you learned that the easiest way to get out of trouble, was to agree and apologize. To just get it over with.

-The giant masked man continues to berate you as you just cry and apologize. It continues for several seconds till one of the men in the corner, a new one, steps in.

-‘Hey si, lay off her fer a sec. She looks pretty terrified. Are we even sure it wa’ her, wasn’ the description o' a bigger 6'2 man, nae a 5'8 bonnie lassie.’

-The living shadow seems to suddenly snap out of whatever trance he was in and truly looks at you.

-Wide and scared… no… terrified eyes stare at him, full of tears. Apologies still falling from your lips seemingly not noticing he stopped questioning you almost a minute ago.

-Not sure what else to do he’s about to turn to the one man who would but he’s beaten to the punch.

-‘Hi luv, can you take a breath for me? Good now another one.’ His Captain says, crouching down to your level. ‘Do you mind if we help you walk. There seems to have been a misunderstandin’ and I wanna get you looked at. Make sure you aren’t hurt anywhere.’

-Still petrified in fear and not wanting to do anything else wrong, you nod weakly and allow him to support your as the mohawk man guides the 5 of you to the infirmary.

-About 60 feet from the stark white building a familiar voice calls out your name. Turning toward the voice, you see your knight in shining armor coming to your rescue.

-The men though, they see a furious ball of anger, one that looks like it wouldn’t stop for anything. Not even the fragile Bonnie little bird they were currently transporting.

-‘Are you fucking kidding me?? What happened?’ He yells as he gets closer. You look at him, drunk on appreciation and happiness.

-You’re glad he’s willing to step up for you even against four terrifying men. Your so love stuck that it takes you a few seconds, after Chads’ reached your little group, to realize he stopped in-front of you. He was yelling at you?

-‘Wha-?’

-‘Are you kidding me? Wow, you’re such a little bitch, I can’t have one damn thing in my life without you trampling all over it! Now you’re here EMBARRASSING Me?! How the hell did I get stuck with such a shitty girlfriend!’

-‘Chad? What are you-?’

-‘Yea chad, who th' fuck dae ye think yer yelling at? Aye know yer nae yelling at this wee birdie. If you are, then we're goin’ tae hae some big feckin' problems.’

-Mohawk man steps between you and your supposed ‘beloved’ boyfriend. The masked man standing beside him, fully blocking you from view.

-Your eyes begin to drip again as you try to listen to the angry exchange of words. You’re interrupted by a gentle hand grabbing your chin and turning you towards the kind man from before. His thumb comes up and wipes the tears away.

-‘Okay luv, let’s get you inside yea? Let LT and Soap deal with that asshole.’

-‘He’s not an ass*sniffle*hole. He’s my *choke* boyfriend.’

-‘Ex-boyfriend luv, ex-boyfriend.’ The man called Captain murmurs as you’re led through the doors.

-Unknowingly, the men that scared you shitless not even 10 minutes ago. Are the same ones that will soon show you how to live a happy life. A truly happy one.

——— Hope y’all enjoyed! ———

[ataraxiaspainting]

Stuck Replaying the Memory.

Yan Aventurine x GN (Avgin) Reader.

Synopsis: Life exists with the support of the Aeons, but malice is something humanity has reigned over for thousands of years.

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, manipulation, human trafficking, the reader is described having blonde hair and Avgin eyes, descriptions of past abuse (not from Aventurine), and major spoilers for Aventurine's backstory.

Word Count: 700.

a big thanks to my friends @harmonysanreads and @mochinon-yah for proofreading some of it!!

*~*~*~*

You were taught to keep your head down and your hopes just as low – hell seems like heaven this far beneath dead soil and skeletons of the past’s nameless victims.

Your new god makes no critique of your stance that is akin to a prayer’s and not a slave. Despite your posture being near perfect from the eleven or so past lords and ladies that would burn your skin and tongue with hot iron if you had done otherwise, you still find your posture imperfect. Impolite. There were screams and fires just moments before – your master and his new wife fleeing with guards, pleading for mercy that they had never granted to you – and then silence from outside your chamber.

*~*~*~*

“Hair like honey,” The man’s fingers brushing through your locks are cold and have long nails; the same ones that the woman caresses your scarred back with. “Eyes like jewels. Pretty rare little thing; there aren’t many of you left… If you misbehave, perhaps that number will decline even further.”

*~*~*~*

The divine starts to kneel before you – one of his hands caressing the tattoo on the side of your neck. 

It’s an odd sight; so odd that you have the urge to look up.

You don’t though, because you have been taught how not to get hurt when great beings bless you with their presence.

You hear him read your new name aloud. “Sun…”

You wince from the past memories of it being called in the places where dinner guests would populate the most on the estate. The gardens and the banquet table especially. They would gawk at you and give you all their unwanted attention. Your behavior would be evaluated and you would either be rewarded with gifts befitting that of a royal or chains befitting that of a dog.

“That isn’t your real name, right?”

 The question is raised with a tone that is often paired with your wrist, or worse your hair or ear, being tugged until you confess an answer to the presumption or question. Suspicion of treason leads to you getting charged for the crimes you did to help yourself – a small tunnel being dug with a spoon, a lockpick made from a bobby pin one of the maids put in your hair, bleeding feet from running as fast as they could carry you – most of the time you get hurt or put in a small room by yourself until you beg to be released from it.

*~*~*~*

“But if you listen, the promise to love you will never be broken.” His wife adds.

*~*~*~*

This god looks like you.

Eyes akin to a galaxy that has lost its stars. Flowing hair that reminds you of your lord’s treasure trove locked down below. There is a tattoo on his neck similar to yours, but has some imperfections that only you would notice. It says ‘Slave’ but the outline of the word seems a bit rough. The artist had an uncooperative muse it would seem.

“Do you remember me?” He asks. His tone is sweeter now – possibly from how he had taken note of the trembling you were trying so hard to hide. Your ears register his voice and your brain compares the many screaming, yelling, heinous voices from the past. The memory starts to play in your brain like an electrical shock one of the maids would give to you whenever you would do so much as to look past the doorway to the outside world.

“Kakavasha?”

“It’s Aventurine now,” Your old friend stands up holding the chain attached to your handcuffs. Something tells you they won’t come off any time soon. “We have a lot to discuss, [First].”

He swings the key in his other hand and puts it in his pocket.

“I’m not letting you go again.”

[capseycartwright]

miss me, but let me go

“I have - I’ve carried this grief, for you, for so long, and I know I can’t let it all go, because a part of me is always going to grieve for you,” Eddie paused. “But I can’t feel like this forever, Shannon. I don’t think you’d want me to, either. So - I need to let some of it go. Okay? I need to - I need to be myself now. For me, and for Christopher. I want to be me."

On November 1, Eddie builds an altar for Shannon and finds a way to let her go.

ao3 link

November 1. The date is not one Eddie is likely to ever forget. Even before Shannon died, Dia de los Muertos wasn’t a holiday he ever missed - as a child, he would help his abuelo make their altar every year, a picture of his abuelo front-and-centre, Edmundo Diaz Senior, the man he’d been named for, looking sharp in his suit as he looked out from the glass picture frame where he’d lived all of Eddie’s life. He’d never met his grandfather - only carried his name. 

Over the years, more faces found a home on the altar - friends, and family, time a fickle thing and the only certainty about life that it ended. Death was familiar, a constant in a world Eddie felt like he could never quite figure out.

After Shannon died -

The first November 1 after she died, Eddie built his own altar for the first time, explaining the tradition to Christopher. They had done it every year since, Christopher’s face in a set line as he made sure everything was absolutely perfect. No less than his mother deserved, Eddie knew. 

Shannon hadn’t grown up with the traditions of All Saints and All Souls, but she’d embraced them wholly when she and Eddie had gotten married, making the altar herself when Eddie wasn’t there. It felt right to honour her with the traditions she had loved herself. That was why Eddie had taken to adding a picture of Shannon’s mother to the altar too, when she died the year after Shannon did. Breast cancer, they’d said, but Eddie knew heartbreak had been the thing that had pushed her over the edge.

Every year, Eddie celebrated Shannon, and her mother, his grandfather, the people he’d served with who had died - 

Except this year.

Eddie felt bad. Really, he did - he was going to build the altar himself, but when his dad had texted a picture of the Diaz family altar, Shannon front and centre, Eddie couldn’t quite bring himself to make his own. Shannon was being remembered - that was what mattered. He’d gone to her grave instead, only half listening as the priest had said mass over the graveyard, praying for the salvation of the souls who were buried there.

Grief was a funny old beast, Eddie knew. Grief had made him do crazy things - grief had driven his son to Texas, for crying out loud. The grief didn’t hit standing by her grave, but it did when dusk descended over Eddie’s house, and the absence of an altar began to feel like one of the worst things he’d done amongst a year of terrible decision-making.

Maybe he should have taken Buck up on his offer of coming over to make an altar with him, but Eddie had asked enough of his best friend in the last four months. Eddie knew Tommy had bought them tickets for some movie Buck was dying to see, and as much as Eddie was a near-professional third wheel now, he didn’t think he’d make a good addition to the back row of their local movie theatre.

Eddie winced as he looked at the candle he’d swiped from the dining table. “It’s cedarwood,” he said, apologetic as he lit it, setting the candle down in front of the framed picture of Shannon that lived on their fireplace. “I know you hated cedarwood, but I’m working with what I’ve got here, Shan.”

Eddie pressed his cheek against his folded arms, taking one, two, three shaky breaths. “I really struggled after you left, Shannon. I don’t think I really even realised how much until now - and it’s not just because you were gone, but you were gone and you wanted a divorce, and I - suddenly, I was never going to get answers.”

He’d been talking about Shannon a lot in therapy, lately, unpacking all his complicated feelings during his excruciating weekly hour with Frank. 

“I don’t know if I even wanted to stay married to you,” Eddie admitted, the candle flickering in the growing dark of his living room. That was terrifying to admit out loud - that even if she had stayed alive, he and Shannon wouldn’t have made it work. There were a thousand reasons why, and Eddie could sit, and list them all, but one was more important than the others. 

“I think I’m gay, Shannon,” Eddie had never said it out loud before, despite the thought never quite leaving his mind, Pandora’s box open, now. “If you were here, I bet you’d have such a laugh with that - not like, in a bad way. Just - I think you’d find it funny, that your mom’s gaydar was right after all.” 

He couldn’t help but laugh at the thought himself. Shannon’s mom had been the bitchiest woman he’d ever met, and Eddie loved her for it. 

“I’ve made such a mess of things,” Eddie paused. “But with you, most of all. I’m sorry - for my part in it all. I thought I was doing the right thing, joining the army. I just wanted to take care of you and Chris, and I didn’t see any other way out. I know it was the wrong choice - but I really thought it was the right one. You know?”

Shannon’s picture stayed silent. 

“I have - I’ve carried this grief, for you, for so long, and I know I can’t let it all go, because a part of me is always going to grieve for you,” Eddie paused. For the life she might have had, if not for the car crash - Eddie sometimes liked to indulge himself and think of an alternative life where Shannon had survived, where they got divorced, and learned how to co-parent, and maybe they found their way back to being friends. It was a nice thought.

Eddie wiped roughly at his eyes. “But I can’t feel like this forever, Shannon. I don’t think you’d want me to, either. So - I need to let some of it go. Okay? I need to - I need to be myself now. For me, and for Christopher. I want to be me.” 

With a shaky hand, Eddie pressed a kiss to the framed picture, setting Shannon back down with the candle. It was a half-assed altar, and somehow, that made Eddie feel worse. He scrambled to his feet, heading for his bedroom, and the box of Shannon’s belongings he knew was stashed at the back of his wardrobe. He hadn’t kept much for himself - most of it was for Christopher - but he had a few things. There was a necklace in there, he knew that Eddie had bought her for their first wedding anniversary. It was a cheap thing, because they were always broke, but it was something of hers - it would make it a more acceptable offering.

Eddie couldn’t help the breath that hitched in his throat as he spotted what was in his bedroom. A butterfly, resting on his pillowcase, on the side he always slept on. “Hey, little guy,” he whispered softly, not wanting to startle the tiny creature. His abuela loved butterflies - they were spirits of the people you loved, who had left, coming back to visit. Eddie felt slightly ridiculous, but he said it anyway. “Shannon?”

The butterfly didn’t move. 

“I’m so glad Christopher isn’t here, because he would really think I’ve lost it,” Eddie crouched by the side of his bed, holding out a finger. “Hey. Is this your way of telling me it’s okay to let you go? Did you hear all of that?” 

The butterfly moved, tiny wings fluttering as it came to land on Eddie’s outstretched finger. 

“I hope that’s a yes,” Eddie knew tears were streaming down his cheeks, now, but he didn’t want to freak the butterfly out by wiping them away. “How did you get in here, eh? None of the windows are open.”

If Eddie Diaz believed in a higher power, still, he’d blame God - or the universe. 

“Let’s get you outside,” Eddie said, and the butterfly flapped, a little, coming to land on the windowsill instead. “Yeah? You’re ready to go?”

The butterfly flapped in response again.

“I think I’m ready to let you go, this time,” Eddie admitted, carefully unlatching the window. “We’re going to be okay, me and Christopher. I promise. You can go. You don’t need to worry about us.” 

The butterfly seemed to pause, for a second, before it flew out the open window, disappearing into the beginnings of the evening. Eddie wasn’t sure how long he stood there, tears pouring down his cheeks, rolling off the curve of his chin and onto his shirt, but the next thing he knew, he could hear - 

“Buck?”

“Eddie! You’re a firefighter - how long have you left that candle unattended, huh? Eddie - Eddie, where are you, man?”

Buck appeared in the doorway of Eddie’s bedroom, a family-sized bag of sour patch kids tucked under one arm. “Do I need to teach you the basics of fire safety all over again?” he huffed, pausing as he noticed Eddie’s tears. “Eddie - you okay?”

“Yeah,” Eddie offered his best friend a teary smile. For the first time, Eddie might actually mean that yes. “I’m okay. There - there was a butterfly,” he explained, gesturing at the window vaguely. “I had to let it out.”

“A butterfly?” Buck looked confused. 

“My abuela always said butterflies were the spirits of people who’ve died,” Eddie explained. “I lit a candle for Shannon, and there was a butterfly just sitting on my pillow, when I came in here. It’s…” he paused. “It’s stupid.”  

Buck’s face softened. ‘It’s not stupid,” he shook his head. “You think it was Shannon?”

Eddie glanced at the window again. “I hope it was,” he admitted, taking a deep breath before he closed the window. That in itself felt like symbolism, Eddie decided - a closing of a chapter he should have let go a long time ago. That’s what he needed it to be, at least. “Wait - aren’t you meant to be on a date?”

Bcuk shrugged. “We changed the tickets to tomorrow,” he explained, holding up the bag of candy. “You said you weren’t going to make an altar, and I didn’t want to let you skip out on it. These were her favourite, right?” 

Eddie could cry all over again. Buck, like Shannon, hadn’t grown up with Dia de los Muertos, but here he was, with a bag of Eddie’s dead wife’s favourite candy, ready to sit in Eddie’s grief with him. Eddie wasn’t sure what he’d done in a previous life to deserve a friend like Evan Buckley, but he thanked whatever God or universe was listening for giving him Buck anyway.

“She’d eat so many she’d give herself a stomach-ache,” Eddie grinned, and the memory didn’t hurt, the way it used to, the grief a dull ache that he could grow around, now. He leaned into the embrace Buck offered, breathing in the familiar cedarwood scent of Buck’s favourite cologne. “Thanks. For being here.”

“Nowhere I’d rather be,” Buck hummed, pressing a ridiculous, loud, smacking kiss to the top of Eddie’s head. Eddie loved him. “But I’m buying you one of those electric candle warmers if you’re going to keep leaving candles unattended, Eddie.” 

Eddie was mostly listening as he let Buck guide him back to the living room, the candle still flickering golden in front of Shannon’s picture. It was the same one he’d put on her memorial programme - bright, and beautiful, just like she’d always been when she was alive. 

Buck grinned, as he set a piece of candy in front of her picture. “Berry,” he explained. “My favourite,” he added, tossing a handful of the sour sweets into his own mouth. 

They sat, the television playing reruns of a procedural in the background, eating candy until their stomachs hurt, the candle burning all the way to the end. 

The butterfly didn’t come back.

Buck stayed.

Eddie was ready to move on.

(Buck stayed.)

[petriwriting]

Amortentia - Theodore Nott X Reader

Summary: Learning about amortentia in class

“And with the correct blend of ingridients, does anyone know what is created?” Professor snape asks in his brass tone. A hufflepuff girl raises her hand very hesitantly. “Yes?” He points to to the girl with a gesture. “It’s a live potion.” She says tenderly. “Correct.” Snape retorts, before awarding hufflepuff house a whole 5 points.

You and Theo are standing next to each other, curiously gazing at the cauldron that’s emitting a pink glow very curiously. “The two of you,” professor snape gestures again. You and Theo are first in disbelief, but then you each step forward. “One at a time, I want you to lean forward and describe to me the distinct scent of this potion.” He says.

“Yes professor,” you say. “I’ll go first.” Theodore says. She leans forward into the cauldron, and a pleasant scent fills his senses. “It’s like,” he pursed his lips in thought before continuing. “Lavendar… Cloves, and fresh rain.” He says finally.

“Very well, your turn ms/mr L/N.”

You step forward just has Theodore had, and take a moment to inhale. “. . .It’s warm, it smells like a campfire, cedar… and lemongrass, old books, tobacco.” It was an odd but unique mix that was comforting, familiar almost.

“Does anyone know why Mr. Nott and Mr/Ms L/N are picking up these particular scents?” Professor snape asks. Expecting someone to answer. You step forward after a bit of awkward silence. For a brilliant potions master, he could sure be intimidating sometimes. You could recall from this last lecture; “The scents are whatever the person thinks to be attractive or alluring.” You explain. Professor snape nods. “Excellent.” He cooes.

Your house is awarded 10 points. The remainder of the class felt like a blur, you were tired less engaged during the second half of the class, though when dismissed you were finally able to sigh in relief.

Theodore, whom had been your best friend since your first year noticed the shift in your mood. “You okay?” He says, packing his satchel with his potion making tools for class, his textbook and notes. “Yeah, just tired is all.” You said quietly, gathering your things as well.

“Maybe you can get some rest this afternoon then.” Theodore offered gently. He had always been kind to you in that way. “Maybe.” You lean back putting your hands on the table, brushing theo’s hand which was already there.

Although this was an accident you felt a jolt of energy and your heart began to race. The busy classroom died down until it was just the two of you standing there in an empty classroom. He didn’t move his hand. You smiled softly.

He caught your eyes, his gaze was soft and he slowly leaned in, taking a auick peek at your lips. You did the same until your faces were inches apart.

You would have totally kissed. If it were the poor kid who forgot his book who came back into the classroom. You each pulled away slightly as the student uttered a quick “so sorry.” And rushed back outside.

You and theo chuckled. You liked being so close to him. You could smell that funny scent from the potion from the first part of class start to fill your senses, campfire… cedar… lemongrass… old books… tobacco. You brushed it off, thinking maybe it was some coincidental thing. Or a mind trick. But professor snap had did away with the cauldron and the concoction already… it was strange. You were rattled in thoughts.

“Well, I ought to get going.” Theodore said. “Meet me outside common room tonight, 8 O’clock, and we’ll chat then. Yeah?” He offered. You were still enamored with yourself. “Yeah, Yeah that sounds great.”

“I’ll see you then.” Theodore said slowly making his way away. It took you a few seconds before you realized what was happening. The scent was there when you were about to kiss him, it wasn’t just the cauldron.. and you thought back to when you had answered professor snape. It hit you all at once in a sudden moment, you facepalmed and laughed in disbelief at yourself. It’s smells like whatever is attractive for you, it smells like someone you love… And you were in love, oh Merlin were you in love.

What you did not consider, was what Theodore was thinking. And how you were wearing lavender and clove scented perfume that day.

[rafesbabygirlx]

Don’t Smile

Masterlist

Rafe x Reader Angst

Inspiration: Don’t Smile by Sabrina Carpenter

Result from this poll.

Summary: You and Rafe are both struggling with your break up. I’m much different ways. Based in end of season 1 beginning of season 2.

Neither of you wanted the breakup, but you couldn’t handle his erratic behavior any longer. You thought you’d be okay, but for three straight weeks, you lay in bed, unable to eat or find any joy. The months that followed were spent in isolation, shutting yourself off from everyone. Eventually, your friends had enough. They forced you out of bed and insisted you join them at the annual bonfire. You took a shower while they pregamed in your room, the warm water a small relief after three days without one.

You hadn’t charged your phone since the day you shut everyone out, but tonight you decided to. As you finished getting ready, you reached for your phone and your screensaver lit up—an old picture of you and Rafe, taken during happier times. You were on the beach, resting on his chest as his strong arms wrapped around you, squeezing your cheeks together in playful affection. Your heart clenched. Without thinking, you tossed your phone to your friend and asked her to delete his number.

At the bonfire, you grabbed a drink and settled onto a log with your friends. For the first time in a while, you admitted it felt good to be out, even if you had to fake your laughter. Scanning the crowd, you felt a brief moment of peace until your eyes locked on Rafe. He was laughing with his friends, the sound of it carrying over the fire. Your vision narrowed, body turning numb. When Topper shifted, you saw her—a blonde girl hanging on his arm. You knew Rafe could move on quickly, emotions never being his strong suit, but seeing it firsthand cut deeper than anything before.

Time seemed to blur as you stared, your focus broken only when you noticed Rafe looking back at you. A wave of nausea rolled over you, and without a word, you told your friends you were leaving. Before they could respond, you dropped your drink and made your way to the parking lot.

You hadn’t reached your car when you felt a familiar hand on your shoulder. “Where you going so soon, princess?” Rafe’s voice was low, almost gentle.

“Don’t touch me, Rafe.”

“I’ve been trying to call you for weeks. Your parents won’t let me see you. I needed to talk to you.”

“Please, just leave me alone. Go back to your new friend. Please.” Tears gathered at the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill.

“Not if you’re not okay.” His grip on your shoulder remained firm.

“Does it make you feel better? Girl after girl? Do you numb yourself with them? Do you even think about me, about how I feel when you’re with them?”

He didn’t answer. His silence confirmed everything. The mask he wore—the pretense that everything was fine—made you sick. And from the way his jaw tightened, it was clear that it made him sick too when you shoved his arm off.

“You can keep pretending, Rafe, but I know.” You turned and walked to your car, leaving him behind as you drove away.

Reblog if you enjoyed. Support your writers.

[arjudy224]

Chemical Valley

(The Intern x Red Hood)

After the unsettling reminder of her past, Y/N has been avoiding vigilantes for the last few months. However, Dr. Harris has requested backup in the form of Gotham's newest crime lord. What could go wrong?

The Intern Collection:

Prequel: Death of a family

The Intern: Day one

The Intern: The Laughing Fish

The Intern: Busy Work

The Intern: Outreach Gala

The Intern: Visiting an old friend

The Intern: Chemical Valley

The Intern: Billionaire Boys Club

I'm getting real sick of risking my life for a minimum-wage job. Driving around with Dr. Harris is one thing, but since when did the job description list teaming up with crime lords? I mean it's the Red Hood for Christ's sake. Dr. Harris gives me a protective smile from the driver's seat.

"Don't worry about Red Hood. He knows what he's doing." He starts sensing my apprehension. "Besides, he owes me a favor."

I nod with a nervous smile. Red Hood is the only vigilante that I've never interacted with. He only recently appeared in Gotham. From what I've heard on the streets, he isn't exactly on great terms with Batman.

"All due respect... hasn't he killed people? " I question glancing around the lonely alleyway.

Growing silent, Harris contemplates his response.

"Not recently." He says with what is supposed to be a comforting pat on the shoulder.

Trying to ignore the anxiety creating knots across my gut, I reply with more enthusiasm than I feel.

"Oh well... that's progress."

Harris laughs.

"It's Gotham dear. It's hard to find someone who hasn't committed murder. I wouldn't worry too much about the Hood though. If you can befriend Waylon, a little boy in a helmet is the least of your worries. "

I raise an eyebrow.

"You wanna elaborate?"

He smiles sweetly. I narrow my eyes.

"Don't ask questions that you don't want to know the answers to."

That shuts me up. We sit in silence for a few minutes while I contemplate what he just said. Dr. Harris isn't exactly wrong... Glancing at the time clock on the dashboard, I frown. I guess vigilantes aren't known for being punctual, but at least Nightwing was on time. Considering our history, maybe we were both eager to see each other again. I try to focus on the cool air dusting across my face.

A swift knock causes me to jump. The infamous Red Hood almost cartoonishly waves at me from the outside the window. My nervous heart patters like a hummingbird. Eyeing his bike, I sigh. It was silent... Of course, it was silent. What kind of muffler does he have on that thing?

Harris rolls down the window.

"Good morning. Thank you for meeting us."

Leaning on the car door, Red Hood asks in a deep voice

"What do you have for me Dr.?"

"Routine inspection of Ace chemicals. Normally, I wouldn't worry about having a backup, but with an uptick in Joker sightings... I figured it would be better to be safe than sorry."

Hood nods, then glances in my direction.

"I'll keep an eye out."

"Y/N L/N," I say introducing myself, "But most people call me L/N."

"Weren't you the one who convinced the Riddler to let you go in exchange for inspecting his lair for asbestos?" Hood asks with a tone of pride.

I smile while shaking his hand. Word must get around quick.

"Yeah, that's me. He didn't even ask me any riddles. The poor man was terrified."

Dr. Harris whips his head around.

"Why haven't I heard about this?" He demands.

I flash him a shit-eating grin.

"Don't ask questions you don't want to know the answers to Dr. Maybe Metropolis hasn't made me so soft after all."

Before he can start lecturing me, I step out of the car to face my new bodyguard. Keeping my eyes trained on the ground. I sidestep the hulking mammoth of a man.

"Thank you for dropping me off Dr., but I'm sure "Little" Red and I can take it from here."

From the Driver's seat, Harris watches me with a hint of pride.

"This is not the last time we will be discussing this."

"I look forward to the debrief," I remark as he pulls away.

The ACE chemicals manufacturing plant towers over the surrounding buildings. The smoke stacks excrete a dark sticky aerosol that trickles down from above. Its gothic structure makes it look like something out of a Tim Burton film. Taking a step near the external shutter, I drag my index finger across. My glove smears a damp power off revealing the old white paint. An uncomfortable sensation settles in my chest.

There is no way this amount of air pollution is legal.

After my second round of coughing, Red Hood offers me a disposable face mask. I gratefully take it. The neon green sign serves as a haunting reminder that somehow this has passed inspection. My eyebrows narrow. We passed several kids on the way here. What does that do to someone? No wonder Dr. Harris mentioned childhood asthma. I'm more concerned about the long-term exposure to industrial solvents.

Glancing at Red Hood, I state

"There is no way this is legal."

Red Hood stays quiet for a moment. Adjusting his helmet, he replies

"The law can be anything you want as long as you kill the inspectors who challenge you."

My mouth falls open. A thousand questions flood my mind.

"Somebody must have tried."

Hood tilts his head while glancing between us and the doors.

"Somebody did try."

Tossing me a key card over his shoulder, he continues, "You can visit them in Arkham if you want."

I flounder to catch the key card. It takes a few moments to register his words. Them as in more than one? Or is he concealing their identity? By the time my brain focuses, I stand in the alley alone staring up at a sign for a trading card company.

Isn't that where the Joker.... Oh hell no...

Stumbling through the stained doors, a bubbly man contrasts the bleak external welcome. As he rambles, I analyze the faded posters nailed to the wall. Dr. Harris briefly mentioned the factory's history of producing bioweapons during the Second World War. Hazardous feels like an understatement. I nodd along with the pleasant man, yet something in my gut tells me to keep my eyes and ears open.

Walking past a dust cloud, my lungs contract. Unable to steady myself, I sneak down a back hall to take my inhaler. The rambling man continues down the other hallway completely oblivious to my absence. I tear the disposable mask off my face. Searching my pockets for the familiar medication, my heart drops. Of course, I left it in the car.

I sink into a seated position once the dizziness sets in. Do. Not. Panic. We cannot do that again. No more emergency room trips. A pair of boots emerges from the shadows.

"Are you alright?"

I nodd while focusing on each labored breath.

"Sometimes, I really hate this city." I wheeze clutching my chest.

Red Hood lets out a dry laugh before taking a seat next to me.

"I have something that might help, but you have to trust me."

A small inhaler makes its way into my left hand. Squinting, a small Bat engraving stares up at me. I give him an incredulous glance. There is no fucking way that Batman has a pharmacy.

"It works. I promise."

Reluctantly, I take two puffs. We sit in silence for a few minutes. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. I relish the first full breath of air in days. My lungs expand completely. It is glorious.

"How is your friendship with Killer Croc?"

The immense pain that weighs on my chest lessens slightly.

"I'm sure Waylon wouldn't use the word friend. "

I open my eyes to look at him. Spots litter my vision. The sticky residue has left grime all over his mask. I hesitate.

"Waylon has lost everything... Everyone really. All he really needed was a friend."

Hood stays silent weighing out my words.

"What factory did they make you in?" He questions.

I can almost hear a smile in his voice.

"The same one that kicked you out for defects." I retort staring at the white paint peeling on the far left wall.

Considering the age of this building, I really hope that's not lead paint.

"Touché, Ms. Friendship. Touché"

I give him a friendly shove.

"You know, you aren't as bad as your reputation suggests."

He laughs climbing to his feet.

"I wouldn't go that far. Usually, I'm a dick."

"Better a dick than a sociopath," I say dusting off the black power on my pants.

"Damn Metropolis. Who have you been talking to?"

I shrug.

"It's Gotham. "

After a few moments of friendly silence, he asks

"You ready to find Mr. Optimistic?"

I nodd allowing him to pull me to my feet. Enjoying the comfortable silence, I open the door for him once we make it down the hall. To my surprise, Red Hood slams me against a wall before covering my mouth. Paralyzed in shock, I don't fight him. The Red Bat insignia stares at me. The soft aroma of his cologne catches me off guard. It's nice. Very musky. There's something so... familiar about it. I suddenly feel my face go red. There is no way I am evaluating how good a CRIMINAL smells. Get a grip girl.

Ignoring my mental crisis, Red Hood leads the two of us out the back door. Stumbling out the door behind him, I bend over holding my knees for stability. This is a lot of cardio for a regular inspection.

"What the hell was that about dude?" I hiss in between breaths.

Red Hood doesn't say anything.

"I know you are trying for the strong and silent type, but I think this partnership would benefit from open communication."

Standing up tall, a gunman aims a pistol directly at my temple.

Oh.. That's why.

Tag list: @nosyrobin, @jjsmeowthie, @epicy0n,@gaychaosgremlin, @rory-cakes, @luna-zendra-star

[ginxyy]

Forever

As you comb through the dust-laden boxes in your parents’ attic, sunshine filters through the little window, casting a warm, amber glow on your childhood memories. Lost in nostalgia, you laugh softly at the remnants of your past: a crooked photograph of your high school friends, long-forgotten journals, and, just as your finger grazes over a worn-out stuffed animal, you feel something hard beneath the frayed fabric. You pull out a cassette tape its label faded with time, but unmistakably smudged into the outline of a heart.

Your breath catches in your throat. It’s the mix tape he made for you, Seungcheol. The very one he painstakingly curated with songs that echoed your laughter and whispered secrets in hallways filled with daydreams. Your heart flutters at the thought of his boyish smile, those quiet glances you exchanged during English class, and the way his fingers brushed against yours as he moved your hair behind your ear. Seungcheol, your high school boyfriend, who somehow faded into the backdrop of your life when his dreams took him far from your small town to international stardom. You couldn’t help but remember how he used to tease you for being a romantic, for believing in love songs sung under starlit skies.

Curiosity pulls at you like a gentle tide as you head to your old cassette player, eagerly dusting it off and sliding the tape inside. Moments later, the soft crackle of grainy sound fills the air, followed by the melodious strum of a guitar, unleashing a flood of feelings that you thought you had long buried. Each song reverberates through your heart, reminding you of the laughter, the late-night talks, and the dreams you shared under the shimmering moonlight.

As the notes wrap around you like a tender embrace, your phone buzzes unexpectedly, pulling you back into reality. A mix of surprise and joy washes over you as you see his name flash across the screen. Seungcheol. Your heart races as you dare yourself to answer, an alluring thrill coursing through your veins.

“Hey, it’s been a while,” his voice drifts through the speaker, deep and warm, like a melody you’ve missed. There’s a hint of nervousness, a flicker of longing that echoes through the airwaves. You can almost picture his shy smile, his endearing uncertainty all at once. “I found something today and couldn’t help but think of you.”

“Me too,” you breathe, your heart leaping as if you were back in the vibrant halls of your high school, running towards his embrace after a tough day. “I found that old mix tape you made for me.”

“Oh, wow!” he chuckles, the sound vibrant and full of life. “I thought I’d never see that again. It was our little secret, wasn’t it? It had all the songs I thought you’d love.”

“Yes,” you smile, warmth blooming in your chest. The memories flood back; that afternoon in your old neighborhood when he composed the mixtape in his bedroom, flipping through your favorite songs. “They all reminded me of us like you knew me better than anyone.”

“I missed those days,” he replies, his voice softening, a tender sincerity woven through his words. “I missed you.” An ache surges through you with those three simple words, stirring emotions you thought were safely locked away.

With his confession lingering in the air, the conversation flows like a gentle stream, laughter spilling over as you reminisce about the small-town adventures, the silly quirks you both shared, and the dreams that once felt so vivid. The world outside fades away, leaving only the essence of innocence, the fragrance of a blossoming love that never truly faded.

As the sun dips below the horizon, casting a dusky hue over the evening sky, your laughter dances through the air, bringing you both closer as the shared memories intertwine like threads of fate. Between moments of silence, there's a quiet intensity that wraps around both your hearts, unspoken but undeniably present.

“Can we at least... meet again?” you ask cautiously, a blend of hope and trepidation weaving through your words. “Just to see each other?”

“I’d love that,” he replies, the joy unmistakable, an undercurrent of desire threading through his voice. “How about this weekend? I’ll be in town for a short break. We could grab coffee, relive our memories.”

Your heart skips a beat at the thought of actually seeing him again after all these years. A feeling, rich and intoxicating, swells within you. “It’s a date then,” you say, your voice layered with anticipation and delight.

That weekend arrives quicker than you anticipated, and as you stand before the café a quaint little spot decorated in soft fairy lights you feel a whirlwind of emotions. The butterflies in your stomach flutter with excitement and anxiety. What will he think of you? The girl from high school, now documented in the shadows of nostalgia and dreams.

When he walks in, the world narrows to just the sight of him. Seungcheol looks different, yet undeniably the same. The years haven’t dulled his charm; if anything, they’ve molded him into an even more captivating version of the boy who stole your heart. Dressed casually yet stylishly, he radiates warmth and familiarity as he spots you, his eyes lighting up with recognition.

“Hey,” he grins, stepping closer, an intricate tapestry of connection weaving itself around you both. It’s as if no time has passed; he wraps you in an embrace that feels like coming home.

“Hi,” you whisper, your cheeks flushing as you pull back, a shy smile stretching across your face.

The coffee flows, but it’s the conversation that fills your souls. Between cups of steaming latte and glances that linger just a moment longer, you share your lives what you’ve both done, the places you’ve been, the hearts you’ve touched. Yet within this joy, there’s an understanding that simmers beneath the surface, a yearning that has never truly dissipated.

As the evening light wanes, you walk out into the cool air together, the night wrapping around you like a cozy blanket. And in that moment, under a sky sprinkled with stars, Seungcheol reaches for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. The simple touch burns through you, igniting forgotten feelings of love and belonging.

“I never stopped loving you,” he breathes sincerely, his eyes locking with yours. The world around you blurs into insignificance as he pours his heart out, revealing the tender truth you both needed. “I’ve missed you every single day.”

Your breath hitches, and it feels like the universe is bending to the magic of this moment. With hearts intertwined once more, the atmosphere brimming with love, laughter, promise, and a new beginning, you know one thing with absolute certainty: life is a beautiful melody, and you, dear heart, are ready to dance to its sweetest rhythm once again, hand in hand with the boy who now stands by your side, forever rekindled.

As Seungcheol’s fingers intertwined with yours that evening under the stars, a soft sigh escaped your lips. It was as if years of longing and unresolved feelings finally found a voice, a place to settle. The warmth in his eyes mirrored your own, like two halves of a heart finally reuniting. That night, you felt the threads of fate pull you closer together, and in the days and weeks that followed, your lives began to weave into a shared story again.

The first few months were like a gentle return to a familiar song. You and Seungcheol went for long walks in the park, talking about life, dreams, and the spaces you had both filled in each other’s absence. The moments felt like rediscovering an old photograph, every detail both familiar and full of wonder.

Seungcheol would surprise you with notes slipped into your bag, little reminders of the days he used to leave tiny love letters in your locker. Each note carried words he had once been too shy to say, but now, as he read them aloud to you over dinner, you felt that same thrill, that same exhilaration, as if you were both still teenagers falling in love for the first time.

“You know,” he said one evening, his hand wrapped gently around yours, “I spent so many years thinking of you. Every time I wrote a new song, I’d wonder if you would have liked it.”

You smiled, squeezing his hand. “Well, maybe you’ll have to play some of those for me.”

And he did. Some nights, he’d take out his guitar and play softly for you, his voice filling the room with melodies only you two understood. Sometimes, he’d hum a song he had never quite finished, the lyrics simple yet profoundly intimate, a reminder of all the moments you’d missed, now brought back to life.

Months passed, and slowly, your lives entwined. He began to leave a toothbrush at your place, then a sweatshirt or two that you found yourself wearing whenever he wasn’t around. Before long, you found yourselves cooking dinners together, whispering in the soft glow of candlelight, savoring the beauty of each moment as though it were a page from a book you’d both forgotten to read.

Seungcheol was patient, attentive, and, most of all, devoted. And one evening, as he held your hand and gazed at you with that familiar tenderness, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a delicate, sparkling ring.

“I’ve carried this in my heart for years,” he said, his voice trembling slightly. “But today, I’m asking you: will you make this forever?”

With tears in your eyes and your heart soaring, you whispered, “Yes.” And just like that, in a soft moment under the stars, you both promised to continue this love story this time, without any endings.

The first year of marriage felt like an endless honeymoon, filled with discovery, learning, and quiet moments shared over cups of coffee on rainy mornings. Your lives were a perfect blend of romance and friendship, comfort and passion. You’d wake up to see Seungcheol working on lyrics, his eyes lighting up whenever you wandered over to hear what he was working on.

Together, you learned to navigate the ups and downs, finding joy in the everyday, the beautiful monotony of being together. There were days when you’d collapse into laughter over a silly disagreement about whose turn it was to do the dishes, or when he’d come home with a bouquet of wildflowers, just because.

Seungcheol’s career took him to amazing places, and you traveled alongside him, building memories that felt like dreams waking up to misty sunrises in foreign cities, cheering him on as he performed for crowds that adored him as much as you did. Yet every evening, when the stage lights dimmed, he’d return to you, his head resting on your shoulder, finding home in your presence.

When the day came that you held a tiny, positive pregnancy test in your hand, your heart leapt. You could hardly wait to tell him. That evening, you surprised him with a small, heart-shaped box. Inside was a tiny pair of baby booties.

The look on his face was pure joy an indescribable mix of shock, love, and wonder. He lifted you into his arms, laughing and crying, holding you close as you both shared the beauty of what was to come.

The months that followed were a blur of anticipation. Seungcheol sang to your growing belly, his voice gentle and filled with awe as he crafted lullabies just for your little one. He’d read baby books and carefully paint the nursery, insisting on creating the perfect world for the life you were bringing into it.

When your daughter finally arrived, the world shifted for both of you. She was tiny, with Seungcheol’s big eyes and your dimpled smile, and from the moment she was placed in your arms, you both knew that life had reached a kind of magic neither of you had ever imagined.

As years passed, your family grew. Two little voices filled the house with laughter and giggles, their footsteps pattering through hallways echoing with memories of your own childhood. Seungcheol transformed into a proud, gentle father, spending hours teaching your children to sing, to dream, and to find joy in the little things.

Life settled into a beautiful rhythm, a melody of love that grew stronger with time. There were small, everyday joys making pancakes on Sunday mornings, cheering on your kids at their school recitals, quiet evenings where you’d look back on your journey together, marveling at the serendipity of it all.

Every anniversary, Seungcheol would surprise you with a new song, a tribute to your life together, each note a reminder of the journey you had taken from high school hallways to where you stood now, surrounded by love.

Years later, as you sit together on your front porch, watching your children chase fireflies, you feel the gentle touch of his hand on yours. The years have only deepened your love, filling it with layers of shared dreams, memories, and a sense of completeness.

“You know,” Seungcheol says, brushing a strand of hair from your face, “if I could go back to that day in English class, I’d do it all over again just to be with you.”

And as you lean into him, your heart beating in perfect harmony with his, you realize that life truly is a melody a beautiful, unending song that began with a mixtape, a little faded heart, and a love that never really left.

[masterisabelle]

Hi

Uhh can I have monster Clover meeting the normal monster characters? Yeah

Sorry if I took a while to answer! I didn’t receive the notif for this…I hope this is what you wanted

Here I shall take clover from their usual human Au dimension and plop them in uty post pacifist

Well for Dalv and clover I don’t think their interactions would be much different, clover would probably notice how similar he looks to his human form

Martlet! Well she’d be very happy, plus it means clover can stay with her without any of that royal guard stuff getting in the way

Starlo and ceroba would be very interested with monster clover, especially since clover looks so similar to Starlo

I think clover would be most interested in axis because in the human Au he’s a human like everyone else, but here he’s the only robot, and also robots are interesting and this clover has never met a robot, shenanigans will ensue

I think the monsters would’ve be interested in clover’s monster anatomy and what magic they can do, martlet and Starlo would take clover to explore the underground now that monsters won’t jump them, axis is going to short circuit from confusion, Dalv would probably just hang out with clover normally and not pry too much on their now “monsterness” and ceroba would hang out too, also if they meet clover post-pacifist that would be very joyous for them, it would be like seeing an old friend come back from the dead

[yvesette]

BUZZCUT. | ── [ j.jh ]

── ⭒ staring .ᐟ ౨ৎ  jaehyun x afab!reader

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀　 　₊　˙　✃ ⋆　 † ⠀๋⠀��� -

SUMMARY: ── in a bittersweet farewell, the night before your close childhood friend jaehyun leaves for military service you both take a walk along the han river as well as navigate your complicated feelings for each other.

GENRE: friends to lovers, SMUT (18+, mdni), angst, fluff, idol!jaehyun CW/TAGS: dom!jaehyun, sub!reader, oral (f receiving), fingering, piv sex, spanking, hair pulling, reader is refered to as a girl, praising, bigdick!jaehyun WORDS | 6.8k A/N | this is in honor of jaehyun's enlistment - enjoy !!

‪　 ゛ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ♡ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ₊ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ 𓈒 ◌ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

── the night is cool against your skin, a gentle breeze wrapping around you as you walk down the narrow streets, winding your way toward the river. your steps are deliberate, even though your heart thunders against your chest. you’re thinking too much, and you know it, letting each thought flicker and fold over the last like waves, endless and unknowable, churning somewhere deep inside you.

it’s been a long time, you think. a long time since you first saw him, all easy smiles and casual charm. a long time since you first felt that jolt of something you didn’t yet have a name for but that, in hindsight, you recognize as love. you’ve never told him, not once—not in all these years of close calls and almosts, of lingering touches and moments that you always held on to longer than you should have.

you inhale deeply, trying to slow the pace of your thoughts, but each step closer only winds you tighter. the han river glimmers faintly in the distance, a line of silver beneath the night sky. and there, by the water’s edge, is jaehyun. he’s leaning against the railing, looking out at the river, his face partially shadowed but somehow softer, framed by the quiet of the night. the sight of him, so familiar yet distant, almost pulls you to a stop.

there’s something about him tonight—a weight you hadn’t noticed before. it’s as if he, too, is looking to hold on to everything here, everything he’s about to leave behind. and yet, he doesn’t turn to look at you until you’re almost right next to him, his gaze steady as he catches your eye.

“you made it,” he says, that soft, reassuring warmth in his voice. his smile, though, is smaller than usual, like there’s something unsaid between you both, lingering just below the surface.

“i made it,” you answer, and you try to keep your tone light, but it comes out quiet, touched by an edge you didn’t mean to reveal. you’ve imagined this moment—this last chance to see him—over and over in your head, each version of it different. and yet, standing here now, everything you thought you might say seems to slip through your fingers.

he watches you carefully, that subtle intensity in his gaze, as if he’s trying to memorize the way you look, standing there in the glow of the distant city lights.

he clears his throat, breaking the silence as you both start walking along the path that follows the river's edge. “how’ve you been?” he asks, giving you a sidelong glance. it’s a simple question, and yet the softness of his tone makes it feel like he’s asking for something more, like he’s trying to make up for all the times he’s missed out on in the last few months.

you smile, shrugging lightly. “same old, same old. work, school—nothing too exciting. but you, mr. idol, you’ve been busy.” jaehyun chuckles, the sound low and warm, as he brushes his hair back with one hand. “yeah, i guess that’s one way to put it.” he looks down at his shoes for a moment before meeting your gaze again. “we were doing concerts. that’s why i’ve been, you know… hard to reach.”

you nod, already knowing. his life has been moving at a different pace—one that has taken him across oceans, into arenas filled with fans chanting his name. it’s a reality you’ve grown used to, but still, there’s a tiny ache whenever you remember how separate his world can sometimes feel from yours. but tonight, it’s as if none of that matters. tonight, he’s here, and there’s only the two of you.

“still can’t believe that’s real,” you say, nudging him lightly with your shoulder. “remember when you wouldn’t even sing in front of me?”

jaehyun laughs, shaking his head. “i was terrible back then. don’t lie to me.”

“no, i’m serious!” you grin, holding up your hands in mock surrender. “all those late nights, trying to get you to sing while we were ‘studying’ for exams. it was tragic—”

“oh, come on, it wasn’t that bad,” he interrupts, nudging you back with a smile that’s both embarrassed and pleased. “you’re making me sound hopeless.”

“hopeless? maybe a little,” you tease, watching his face light up in a way that feels achingly familiar, like something you want to freeze in time. “but i guess you’ve come a long way, huh?”

he nods, a soft hum in his voice. “feels like forever ago, though. remember the first time we stayed out all night? trying to find that coffee shop you swore was ‘just around the corner’?”

you laugh, covering your mouth at the memory. “and we got so lost! i was ready to give up, but you…” you trail off, looking at him with that same warmth, thinking of the way he had insisted on keeping on, even when you both had practically wandered into the outskirts of the city.

“i wasn’t about to let you down,” he finishes, a hint of pride in his voice.

the two of you continue walking, memories spilling out as naturally as the river flowing beside you. nights spent at convenience stores with cheap ramyeon and cola; that one time he convinced you to go to karaoke and made up for years of not singing; all the secrets you whispered between laughter and yawns, half-asleep in the early morning light.

and yet, despite the familiarity, tonight is different. the laughter dies down quicker, and each memory feels like a bittersweet treasure, something you’re both afraid to hold too tightly for fear it will slip away. you’re acutely aware of every step, every glance, every brush of his shoulder against yours. it’s all slipping through your fingers, each second a reminder that you’re both on the brink of a sort-of goodbye.

the quiet stretches out between you as you walk, and though his hand rests loosely in his pocket, jaehyun’s other hand rises to press his fingertips to his mouth, lost in thought. his gaze wanders out over the river, his usual warmth dimming, replaced by something heavier. it lingers in the air around him, that tension, that uncertainty—like the night itself is waiting to exhale.

“honestly… i don’t know what to expect.” his voice is lower now, almost a whisper that the wind could easily snatch away. “everyone says you just get through it. that it’s over before you know it. but…” he trails off, his words floating into the dark like something fragile and fleeting. “it’s strange, thinking that life just… pauses. for two years.”

you walk a few more paces, silent, each step a reminder of time slipping by too fast. you look at him out of the corner of your eye, trying to hold onto the image: the faint furrow of his brow, the set of his jaw, that expression he wears when he’s trying to seem brave but doesn’t quite manage it. and your own heart twists at the sight of him—of jaehyun, here with you, with all the things you’ve never said pressing against your chest. but you push it down, that ache, until it’s tucked somewhere deep inside you. instead, you reach out, letting your hand rest on his arm, feeling the warmth of him under your fingertips.

“you’ll be okay yuno,” you say quietly, feeling the words reverberate through you, anchoring you to this moment. “you’ve always found a way to be.”

he looks at you then, really looks at you, like he’s seeing something for the first time. there’s a hint of disbelief in his eyes, almost as if he wants to question what you’ve just said, even using his real name - to pick it apart. but he doesn’t. he just nods, a faint, grateful smile tracing his lips.

“sometimes i think you believe in me more than i do,” he murmurs. “like you’ve always known something i haven’t.”

you want to say something to that, to answer, to reach through all these walls of silence that have built up between you over the years, but you don’t. instead, you only look back at him, holding your smile steady, letting the quiet carry all the things you can’t say.

after a moment, you find a bench tucked away at the edge of the path, overlooking the river’s glimmering surface. the world around you fades into the background, and for a brief moment, it’s just the two of you, suspended in this fragile stillness. as you sit, jaehyun turns toward you, his fingers brushing against yours before he takes your hand fully, squeezing it gently.

“i don’t know what i’d do without you,” he admits, his voice steady but low, a hint of vulnerability hidden beneath the surface.

your heart races at the contact, warmth spreading through you like a soft glow. you’re on the verge of confessing everything—the weight of your feelings that you’ve kept hidden, the love that has thrived in the silence between you. but you hold back, unwilling to add any more emotional weight to a goodbye that’s already too heavy. instead, you meet his gaze, trying to capture this moment, every detail of him etched in your mind—his soft features, the way his eyes reflect the shimmering river, the gentle press of his hand against yours.

jaehyun clears his throat, breaking the quiet between you. “it’s getting cold,” he says, his voice soft, almost reluctant. “i’ll walk you home.”

you nod, and without another word, you both stand, falling into step beside each other. the silence between you now is thick, layered with the things neither of you have said, and each step you take feels heavier, like the night itself is pressing down, reminding you that this is the last time—for a good while—that you’ll have him beside you like this.

the streets are emptier now, just the distant glow of streetlights casting long shadows as you walk side by side. you can feel the tension building, each step drawing you closer to the inevitable. your hand brushes his once, and though neither of you speaks, there’s a quiet comfort in that brief, familiar contact. when you finally reach your apartment, you stop, and jaehyun does too. he stands there, looking at you with an expression you can’t quite read—something mingling with the sadness in his eyes, a softness, a question, maybe. and he hesitates, his hand hovering just beside yours as if he wants to reach for you, as if he’s searching for something in your face that he’s not sure he’ll find.

jaehyun’s gaze flickers, lingering on you as if he’s committing every detail to memory. he rubs the back of his neck, breaking eye contact for a second before looking back at you.

“so…” he begins, his voice barely above a whisper, carrying the weight of all the unspoken words between you. “guess this is it, huh?” you force a smile, nodding even though it feels like your chest is tightening. “yeah. tomorrow.”

he bites his lip, his eyes searching yours, like he’s waiting for you to say something, anything to make this moment last longer. “it’s just… i don’t know. doesn’t feel real yet.”

you swallow, the words caught in your throat. “it doesn’t,” you reply softly, your voice barely steady. “we’ll still call and text all the time…and if you want we can hang out every other weekend or something.”

jaehyun’s expression softens, the corners of his mouth twitching into a small, sad smile. “you’ve been there for everything,” he says, his voice quiet, almost as if he’s admitting a secret. “since we were kids. it’s hard to think of… going through something without you around.”

your heart races at his words, and you force yourself to hold his gaze, even though every instinct tells you to look away, to hide what you’re feeling. “i’ll still be here,” you say, and the promise feels fragile, yet unbreakable, hanging in the space between you.

he lets out a small breath, his hand lifting as if on instinct, brushing your cheek, his fingers barely grazing your skin. “i know you will.” his voice catches, and for a moment, you see something raw in his eyes—a tenderness that feels almost too much to bear.

you stand there, suspended in the silence that follows, the weight of everything unsaid filling the space between you. and before you can second-guess yourself, before you can think of all the reasons not to, you close the distance, pressing your lips to his. his hand slips around to the back of your neck, gentle but firm, as if grounding you both in this moment, and he kisses you back, slow and unhurried, like he, too, is trying to capture everything he feels in this one breath, this one touch. the kiss starts softly, a gentle brush of lips that feels almost tentative, as if you’re both testing the waters of this new territory. but as the world around you fades, that initial hesitation melts away. the warmth of his hand cradling your neck sends a shiver down your spine, igniting something deep within you that has long been simmering beneath the surface.

jaehyun's lips are sweet, tinged with the warmth of honey and a hint of smoky undertones from the cigarette he smoked earlier. his lips move against yours with increasing urgency, a mix of longing and a bittersweet awareness that time is slipping away. you lean into him, feeling the solid weight of him against you, and it’s as if every memory, every unspoken word, pours into that moment—every shared glance, every moment of laughter—colliding in time.

jaehyun deepens the kiss, tilting his head slightly, and you feel his breath against your skin, warm and inviting, igniting a fire that spreads through you. it’s a heady mix of sweetness and heat, and you find yourself responding instinctively, matching his intensity, losing yourself in the sensation of him.

your heart races as you feel his fingers slide into your hair, pulling you closer, anchoring you to him as if he fears letting go. the world around you blurs, the distant sounds of the city fading into a dull hum, leaving only the two of you, caught in this fragile moment that feels both infinite and fleeting.

breathless, you pull away just enough to rest your forehead against his, the warmth of his skin lingering. your eyes meet, and in that charged silence, a shared understanding pulses between you—fragile yet undeniable. with a shaky breath, you fumble for your keys, the metal cool against your palm as you unlock the door, hands trembling. jaehyun steps in behind you, his presence a comforting weight, solid and unwavering in the dim light.

the moment the door closes, he's there, pulling you close again. his lips find yours in the dim light of your apartment, urgent and needy. you melt into him, your fingers tangling in his hair as he walks you backwards toward the couch. the familiar scent of his cologne envelops you, a heady mix of leather and lillies that makes your head spin. your legs hit the edge of the couch, and jaehyun gently lowers you onto the soft cushions. he follows, his body a comforting weight above you as he settles on top of you.

“god, i’ll miss this,” he murmurs, brushing his thumb along your jaw. then, without another word, he kisses down your neck, his lips trailing warmth that ignites every nerve in your body. you gasp softly, feeling the heat radiate from him, his touch igniting a fire deep within you.

“jaehyun…” you breathe, your voice a mixture of longing and urgency. “i wanna remember this.”

his kisses trail back to your lips, deepening as he pours everything he feels into the moment, as if to make sure you both carry it with you, etched into your hearts. “are you sure?” he whispers, his breath warm against your skin, “that you want this.”

you nod, your eyes locked with his. "i promise," you whisper back, “i’ve thought about this for so long.”

jaehyun’s eyes soften, a blend of tenderness and desire flickering within their depths. he shifts slightly, fingers finding the hem of his shirt, and you hold your breath as he pulls it over his head, revealing the smooth contours of his chest and abs. the dim light from the street outside casts shadows that accentuate every curve, transforming him into a living, breathing sculpture.

without thinking, your hands reach out, tracing the lines of his torso as if drawn by an invisible thread. his skin is warm beneath your fingertips, a tangible warmth that makes your heart race. you marvel at the firmness of his abdomen, the subtle ridges etched from countless hours of dance practice and grueling workouts.

a soft hitch escapes jaehyun’s breath at your touch, his gaze darkening with desire as he watches you explore. hesitantly, you reach for the hem of your sweater. jaehyun's eyes follow your movements as you slowly pull it up and over your head, revealing the delicate lace of your bra underneath. the cool air of the apartment raises goosebumps on your skin.

jaehyun's gaze is reverent as he takes in the sight of you. his fingertips ghost along your collarbone, tracing a feather-light path down to the swell of your breasts. you shiver at his touch.

“is this okay?” he asks softly, his hands hovering at the clasp of your bra, the question hanging in the air like a fragile promise. you nod, unable to find your voice, the weight of his gaze anchoring you as he leans closer, a whisper of breath brushing against your skin.

with gentle fingers, jaehyun unhooks your bra, his touch reverent as he slides the straps down your shoulders. the fabric falls away, revealing your breasts to his gaze. his eyes darken with desire as he takes in the sight of you, vulnerable yet unafraid beneath him.

"so fucking pretty," he murmurs, voice husky with emotion. he lowers his head, pressing a soft kiss to the curve of your neck. his lips trail downward, leaving a path of warmth across your collarbone. when he reaches your breast, he pauses, his breath hot against your skin. then his mouth closes around your nipple, drawing a gasp from your lips.

his tongue swirls patterns as he sucks gently, sending sparks of pleasure through your body. one hand cups your other breast, thumb brushing over the sensitive peak. you arch into him, a gasp escaping your lips. one of his hands kneads your other breast as he lavishes attention on the first. the dual sensations make your head spin. jaehyun releases your tit with a soft pop, his eyes meeting yours as he begins to trail kisses down your body. his lips brush against your sternum, then trace a path down the center of your abdomen. each touch is feather-light yet charged, sending shivers cascading through you.

he takes his time, mapping the landscape of your skin with worshipful attention. his tongue dips into the hollow of your navel, eliciting a soft gasp. you feel the curve of his smile against your skin as he continues lower, his teeth lightly scraping your sensitive flesh.

jaehyun's fingers trace along the waistband of your skirt, his touch light as a whisper. he looks up at you, eyes dark with desire but still seeking permission. "can i take this off?" he asks softly, his voice low and loving.

you nod, breath catching in your throat as he slowly unzips your skirt. he slides it down your legs, his hands caressing your thighs as he goes. the cool air raises goosebumps on your newly exposed skin.

jaehyun's gaze travels over you reverently, taking in every curve and dip of your body. his fingers ghost along the lace edge of your panties, barely touching. "you're so beautiful," he murmurs, “let me take care of you baby.”

he presses a kiss to your inner thigh, just above your knee. then another, slightly higher. his lips trail a path of fire up your limbs and when he reaches the edge of your panties, he pauses, looking up at you with dark, desire-filled eyes. "god, you're so wet," he murmurs, his voice low and cursing. "fucking soaked, all for me.."

his fingers trace along the damp lace, barely ghosting over your most sensitive areas. even that faint touch sends sparks of pleasure coursing through you. you squirm slightly, desperate for more contact and whimper.

"such pretty noises," he purrs. "i wonder how you'll sound when i really touch you."

"please," you whimper, not even caring how needy you sound.

a slow smile spreads across jaehyun's face. "please what?" he asks, his tone commanding. "tell me what you want, baby."

"touch me," you gasp. "please, i need you to touch me."

your breath catches as he hooks his fingers under the waistband of your panties. with agonizing slowness, he slides them down your legs, his touch leaving trails of fire in its wake. the fabric clings to your damp skin as he peels it away, exposing you fully to his hungry gaze.

jaehyun's eyes roam over you, drinking in every detail. his hands caress your thigh, “perfect fucking pussy, better than i ever imagined..” he praises, before his tongue finally makes contact with your folds, you gasp at the sensation. he starts with long, slow licks, savoring your taste as he explores every inch. his hands grip your thighs, holding you steady as he works.

jaehyun's tongue swirls around your clit before sucking gently, sending waves of pleasure through you. he alternates between broad strokes and focused attention, building your arousal steadily higher. you thread your fingers through his hair, guiding him where you need him most.

jaehyun holds your trembling thighs firmly apart, his strong hands steady and warm against your skin. his touch is gentle yet insistent, opening you up to his hungry gaze. jaehyun's tongue delves deeper, parting your folds and exploring every sensitive ridge and valley. he hums softly against you, the vibrations sending shivers through your core. his fingers dig into the soft flesh of your thighs, anchoring you as pleasure builds within you.

you feel the heat of his breath against your most intimate places as he works, alternating between broad strokes of his tongue and focused attention on your clit. each pass sends sparks of sensation coursing through you. your hips begin to rock involuntarily, seeking more friction.

"such a good girl," jaehyun murmurs against you, his voice low and husky. "i love how you taste."

he slides one finger inside you, curling it upwards as his tongue continues to lavish attention on your clit. the dual sensations make you gasp, your back arching off the couch and you curse.

jaehyun slides one hand up your body to cup your breast, rolling your nipple between his fingers. the added stimulation heightens every sensation, making you gasp and writhe beneath him. your fingers tangle in his hair, holding him close as your hips begin to move of their own accord.

you arch your back, grinding against his mouth as the tension mounts. soft whimpers and gasps fall from your lips, growing more desperate as you climb higher. jaehyun redoubles his efforts, sucking your clit between his lips as he slides another finger inside you. the dual stimulation has you seeing stars. his fingers curl, finding that perfect spot inside you as his tongue lashes your clit. you cry out, your hips bucking against his face as the first waves of orgasm crash over you. jaehyun doesn’t stop, only slows his efforts as you come down from your high. after you catch your breath, he moves his head from your thighs and moves up over you to kiss you.

jaehyun's lips meet yours in a deep, sensual kiss that is almost like a thank-you from you. you taste yourself on his tongue - tangy and sweet with a hint of musk. as he presses his body closer, you feel the hard length of his cock through his sweatpants, hot and insistent against your thigh. the thin fabric does little to conceal his arousal. the heat of him sears into your skin, igniting a fresh wave of desire low in your belly. your hands roam over the planes of his back, tracing the lean muscles there. his skin is fever-warm, and you pull back from kissing him to look down at the print of him through his pants. you make eye contact, and there’s a question hanging in the air along with the heavy breathing of you both.

you break the beat of silence, “i want to,” you say, giving him the permission that he needed.

jaehyun pulls away slightly, his eyes still locked on yours, the heat of the moment lingering in the air. with a quick, decisive movement, he gets up from the couch, the dim light casting soft shadows over his form.

“condom?” he asks.

“it’s in my bedside table,” you reply, watching him as he nods and strides toward the bedroom.

as he disappears from view, the atmosphere shifts. you stare up at the ceiling, feeling the room spin slightly, an unexpected loneliness settling in without his presence. the faint sounds of the city outside filter in, but they feel distant and hollow compared to the warmth he brought just moments before.

a part of you aches for him, for that connection you’ve both been dancing around for so long. time stretches as you wait, heart pounding in your chest, your thoughts swirling with anticipation and uncertainty.

finally, he returns, the confident smile back on his lips, and in his hand is the small foil wrapper. the moment he steps into the light, the heaviness in the air dissipates, replaced by a rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins. you sit up as he slips down his sweatpants and boxers.

as jaehyun's sweatpants fall away, your breath catches in your throat. his cock springs free, thick and hard, jutting proudly from a nest of dark curls. your eyes widen, taking in the impressive sight before you. he's long - longer than you expected - and girthy, the shaft curved slightly upward. the head is flushed a deep pink, a bead of precum glistening at the tip. the sight of him, fully aroused and wanting you, sends a fresh wave of heat through your core.

you swallow hard, a mix of desire and nervousness fluttering in your stomach as he gives it a few pumps, wrapping his veiny hands around his length and then slipping the condom on.

you lay back against the arm of the couch, heart pounding as jaehyun moves over you. his eyes are dark with desire as he positions himself between your spread legs. you feel exposed yet safe under his gaze.

jaehyun braces one hand beside your head, using the other to guide his cock to your entrance. the latex-covered tip brushes against your sensitive folds, making you gasp. he runs it up and down your slit, coating himself in your wetness. when he reaches your clit, he circles it slowly, the friction sending sparks of pleasure through you.

jaehyun's eyes lock with yours, his gaze intense and full of longing. the air between you is charged, buzzed with anticipation. he runs the tip of his cock along your folds once more, coating himself in your slick heat.

"god, you're so wet for me," he murmurs, his voice rough. "such a good fucking girl, all ready to take my cock.”

his praise sends a shiver down your spine, arousal pooling low in your belly. your breath catches in your throat as he begins to push forward, stretching you slowly inch by delicious inch. you gasp at the fullness, your body adjusting to accommodate his impressive girth. he moves with careful control, giving you time to adjust. when he's fully sheathed inside you, he pauses, letting you adjust to his size. his breath is ragged against your neck, his body trembling slightly with the effort of holding still. his breath ghosts over your skin as he leans in close, his lips brushing against your ear. "that's it, baby," he praises, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. "take me in. you're doing so well."

you whimper softly, rocking your hips to encourage him to move. jaehyun takes the hint, slowly withdrawing before thrusting back in. he sets a steady rhythm, each stroke long and deep.

"fuck, you're so tight," he groans, his voice low and husky in your ear. "such a perfect little pussy, taking my cock just right."

jaehyun's thrusts become faster and more urgent, his hips snapping against yours with each movement. your bodies move together in a perfect rhythm, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room.

"yuno," you moan, your hands gripping onto his shoulders as he pounds into you, “feels so good, oh my god.” he leans down to capture your lips in a hungry kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth as he continues to move inside you.

jaehyun's thrusts grow more powerful, driving deep into your core with each movement. the couch creaks softly beneath you as he picks up the pace. you feel every inch of him sliding in and out, the delicious friction sending waves of pleasure through your body.

his hands grip your hips tightly, angling you to hit that perfect spot inside. you cry out as he brushes against it, sparks of sensation radiating outward. jaehyun groans in response, the sound low and primal.

you can feel the tension building in your lower belly, a coiling heat that threatens to consume you. jaehyun must sense it too, because he redoubles his efforts. his hips snap against yours forcefully, driving into you with renewed vigor.

just as you're teetering on the edge, jaehyun slows his movements, pulling almost all the way out before sinking back in torturously slowly. you whimper at the change of pace, your body aching for more. he repeats the motion several times, drawing out each thrust until you're writhing beneath him.

"please," you gasp, "i need more."

jaehyun kisses you deeply before pulling out completely. "turn around for me, baby," he murmurs, his voice insistent. you listen, adjusting your position until you’re on your hands and knees and he’s behind you.

jaehyun's hands grip your hips firmly as he positions himself behind you. you feel the blunt head of his cock pressing against your entrance, teasing you. he runs it along your slick folds, coating himself in your arousal.

the anticipation builds as he lines himself up, the tip just barely breaching you. before you can respond, jaehyun snaps his hips forward, burying himself to the hilt in one powerful thrust. you cry out at the sudden fullness, your fingers gripping the couch cushions tightly. he gives you only a moment to adjust before pulling back and slamming in again.

jaehyun sets a punishing pace, his hips pistoning against you. the new angle allows him to hit spots deep inside that make you see stars. jaehyun's hands grip your hips tightly as he pounds into you from behind, his movements growing more frenzied. the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, punctuated by your breathless moans and his low grunts.

"god, you feel so fucking good," he groans, his voice rough with desire. "my perfect baby, s-so fucking tight."

his praise sends shivers down your spine, arousal pooling low in your belly. you arch your back, pushing your hips back to meet his thrusts. the new angle allows him to hit even deeper, brushing against that spot inside you that makes you see stars. suddenly, jaehyun's hand comes down on your ass with a sharp crack. the sting blooms across your skin, quickly followed by a wave of heat. you arch your back, changing the angle slightly, and cry out as he hits that perfect spot deep inside you. jaehyun notices your reaction and adjusts his movements to hit that same spot with each thrust.

jaehyun's hand slides up your back, fingers tangling in your hair. he grips it firmly, tugging your head back as he continues to thrust into you. the slight pain mingles with pleasure, heightening every sensation. you gasp at the new angle, feeling him even deeper inside you.

"that's it, baby," he growls, his voice low and husky. "take it all for me." his hips snap against yours with renewed vigor, each thrust driving you closer to the edge. the couch creaks beneath you, the sound barely audible over your breathless moans and the slap of skin on skin.

jaehyun's grip on your hair tightens, pulling your head back further. “gonna c-come,” you manage to get out. the arch in your spine deepens, changing the angle just enough to hit that perfect spot inside you with every stroke.

“be a good fucking girl and come for me baby,” he says, leaning against your ear. stars explode behind your eyes as waves of pleasure crash over and you scream his name. jaehyun's grunts become more urgent as he continues to thrust into you, riding out your orgasm. he can feel you clenching tightly around him, milking him for all he's worth. with a loud groan, he follows you over the edge, his hips stuttering as he empties himself inside you.

jaehyun carefully pulls out, both of you wincing slightly at the loss of contact. he sits up, running a hand through his tousled hair as he catches his breath. the dim light from the street outside casts a soft glow on his skin, highlighting the sheen of sweat on his chest.

with a quiet grunt, he stands and makes his way to the small trash can beside the couch. you watch the play of muscles in his back and legs as he moves, admiring the lean strength of his body. he removes the condom and ties it off before tossing it in the bin.

jaehyun turns back to you, a soft smile playing on his lips. his hair is a mess, sticking up in wild tufts where you ran your fingers through it. he ruffles it absently, making it even more chaotic. you run a hand through his hair and scowl playfully when you feel how sweaty he is.

"gross," you tease, wiping your hand on his shirt. "you're all sticky."

jaehyun's smile widens, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "you weren't complaining a few minutes ago," he quips, his voice low, “and say goodbye to my hair - i’m shaving it tomorrow.”

you feel a blush creep up your neck, remembering the heated moments that led to his current disheveled state, and then a sadness rushes over you - that he’s leaving tomorrow. jaehyun notices your reaction and chuckles softly, pulling you closer. his arms wrap around your waist, and you can feel the warmth radiating from his body as he grabs a blanket from the other side of the couch and places it over you both.

"what's on your mind, beautiful?" he murmurs, his breath tickling your ear. you hesitate, not wanting to ruin the moment with your woeful thoughts.

"it's nothing," you reply, forcing a smile. but jaehyun knows you too well. his fingers gently tilt your chin up, brown eyes searching yours.

"tell me," he insists softly.

you sigh, your defenses crumbling under his gaze. "i just… i can’t believe you’re leaving tomorrow. it feels too soon."

his expression shifts, the teasing glimmer fading as he brushes a thumb across your cheek. "yeah, i get it. it’s not easy."

"but what if things change?" you murmur, your heart tightening at the thought.

jaehyun raises an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "change? as in me forgetting you? not a chance. you think i could forget the girl who drove me crazy for all these years?"

you roll your eyes, but there’s a flutter of anticipation in your stomach. "well, you’re going to be busy with training and everything else."

he leans closer, his breath warm against your skin. "busy? sure. but you think i’ll be able to focus when all i can think about is you? not a chance."

your heart skips a beat, and you can’t help but tease back. "is that your way of saying you’ll miss me?"

jaehyun chuckles softly, the sound sending shivers down your spine. "it’s my way of saying you better miss me too. because i’m about to confess something."

you lean in, curiosity piqued. "what’s that?"

jaehyun's expression shifts, becoming more serious as he searches your eyes. "i’m in love with you. like, really in love with you. i think about you all the time—when i'm practicing, when i'm on stage, even when i'm just hanging out with the guys. it’s like you're always there in the back of my mind."

your breath catches, the weight of his words settling around you. "but… why didn’t you say anything before?"

he runs a hand through his hair, a nervous habit you’ve come to know well. "i didn’t want to ruin what we have. i thought maybe it was better to keep it as friends. but now? i want to try things with you. i want to see where this goes."

the confession hangs in the air between you, charged with possibility. you can feel your pulse quickening, excitement mingling with uncertainty. "and what if it doesn’t work out? the timing of this is just-"

jaehyun shakes his head, his brow furrowing slightly. "i don’t care about timing. what matters is how i feel, and i can’t let that go without saying something. i want you in my life, no matter how far apart we are."

you raise an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at your lips. "you make it sound so easy. you do realize i’m not just some object you can claim when you feel like it, right?"

he chuckles, leaning closer, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "oh, i’m fully aware. that’s why i’m trying to make my move before someone else scoops you up."

you laugh lightly, shaking your head. "good luck with that. i’m pretty sure no one else would bother trying."

"yeah? you think i’m the only one?" he teases, raising an eyebrow. "you must have a whole line of admirers waiting."

"right, because i’m just so irresistible," you reply, a smirk on your lips. "but let’s be real. you’re the only one who’s actually putting in the work."

jaehyun’s smile fades just a little as he leans back, studying you. "look, i know this isn’t easy. but i don’t want to just be some random fling. i want to be in your life, no matter where we are."

you take a breath, weighing his words. "and if things get complicated? you know they will."

he shrugs, unfazed. "shit’s always complicated. but i’d rather deal with that than let this slip away. you’re worth the trouble."

you meet his gaze, feeling the sincerity behind his words. "okay, i get it. but don’t think i’m going to make this easy for you."

he smirks, the challenge evident in his eyes. "i wouldn’t want it any other way."

-

the morning light filters in through the window, casting a soft glow on the cluttered room, and you find yourself perched on a stool, an electric razor in your hand, staring at jaehyun’s reflection in the bathroom mirror. he sits in a chair, a towel draped around his shoulders, looking slightly apprehensive but oddly amused by the situation.

“are you sure you want to do this?” he asks, a teasing lilt in his voice that doesn’t quite mask the tension beneath. you grip the razor tighter, suddenly aware of how little you know about haircuts.

“i kinda have to,” jaehyun replies, a hint of seriousness creeping into his tone, “no long hair.”

you nod and take a deep breath, bringing the razor closer. with a gentle buzz, the razor hums to life, and you press it against his scalp. the sound is oddly satisfying, a gentle roar that fills the small space, and you watch as a tuft of hair falls away, landing softly on the towel draped around his shoulders.

“oh my god!” you squeal, barely able to contain your dumbfoundedness. you can’t help but laugh at the sight of jaehyun’s shocked expression, a blend of surprise and amusement. you can’t stop the laughter bubbling up as you buzz away the rest of his hair, the once dark locks falling in tufts around him. each pass of the razor reveals more of his scalp, and soon he’s left with a clean, smooth surface that glints in the morning light.

jaehyun tilts his head, a teasing grin spreading across his face. “so, how do i look? sexy?”

the question hangs in the air, and without thinking, you lean in and press a soft kiss to his lips, the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips sending a rush of warmth through you. his surprise melts into a smile, and you pull away slightly, a grin still playing on your lips as you meet his gaze.

　　 　˳ 　 　౨౿　　⁺　　༄　　　༝　 　 end.

copywrite @yvesette 2024

[dreamtheatre]

Say Don't Go

Pairing: Hunter (TBB) x Jedi!Fem!Reader Summary: After your meeting with Rex, you and the Batch thought that you would never have to worry about the inhibitor chips hurting anyone else again. Turns out you were wrong when Hunter's chip activates, causing him to turn against you and the rest of the Batch. Word Count: 3K Warnings: Heavy angst, hurt no comfort descriptions of injury

After meeting with Rex, an old friend of yours and the rest of the Batch, you didn't think you would have to worry about those damned inhibitor chips again. After all, Rex assured you that after the surgery the chips weren't an issue. Turns out he was wrong.

You should've realised something was wrong when Hunter started complaining about his head hurting. You had dwelled vaguely on it, but ultimately decided that it was probably just the weight of everything that had happened after the war - Order 66, finding Omega... it was a lot for anyone. Even a tough Clone Sergeant like Hunter.

You had met Hunter and the rest of the Batch during the final year of the Clone Wars, when you had been excused briefly from your role as Co-General of the 212th Attack Battalion (the other General was your close friend Obi-Wan Kenobi) to help Anakin Skywalker save one of his 501st troopers, Echo. You still remembered and reminisced the exact moment the strange clones stepped down from their ship onto the Coruscant ground.

The Marauder descended from the cloudy Coruscant sky as you stood on the landing platform with Rex, Cody, Kix, and Jesse, bouncing on your heels with anticipation as you awaited the arrival of the so called Bad Batch.

"So, how come I've never heard of this squad?" You asked, and Cody raised an eyebrow, but answered regardless

"Experimental unit Clone Force 99. They’re defective clones with, uh… Desirable mutations." Cody answered, "They call themselves the Bad Batch." The five of you lifted your arms to shield yourselves from the wind as the ship landed with a woosh on the landing platform, and your eyes lit up with curiosity as four clones, varying in height and build and sporting darker coloured clone armour, walked slowly down the ramp.

The tallest and largest one removed his helmet with a wide grin on his face. He sported a scar across the left side of his face, and one blind eye. "The cavalry has arrived!" He hollered.

Behind your back, you heard Kix whispering to Jesse about how the approaching squad didn't look like clones at all, and you couldn't help but agree. Following the first clone's example, the other members of the Batch removed their helmets. There was a lanky one with a datapad in hand and orange-tinted goggles covering his eyes, a tall, slim clone with a target-shaped scar (or maybe it was a tattoo, you couldn't tell) over one eye). The slim clone placed a toothpick in his mouth as he approached them, eyes landing disdainfully on the other clones.

The final clone was just a bit taller than average height, and muscular (not in the same way as Wrecker). He was more similar to the face of the other, regular clones, but he was so... different at the same time. The entire left side of his face was tattooed a darker shade with half of a skull while the right side of his face was left normal. He had sharper amber eyes that pierced into you, unlike the other clones, and had longish dark brown hair, kept away from his forehead by a red bandana sporting a small white skull symbol.

When his eyes met yours, you sucked in a sharp breath. You held eye contact for a second until Cody stepped forward and held out a hand, causing him to cease eye contact with you and focus on Cody.

"Sergeant Hunter. Good to see you again."

Hunter.

"You too, sir." The Sergeant replied earnestly. His voice was different from the clones too. It had just a bit of a smoother edge, like a sly fox, but still held the commanding tone of a commanding soldier. "Sorry we’re late, Commander. We were putting down an insurrection on Yalbec Prime when your comm came in. Had a few unforeseen… complications."

"Ever fought a male Yalbec?" The large, muscular clone asked loudly, holding his belly as he laughed.

"Can't say I have," Jesse answered before anyone else could

"Well, all those Yalbec males tried to eat us." The clone was cut off by the clone with the goggles.

"Ah, technically they were trying to mate with us." The clone rambled. "And, for your information, the stinger of a Yalbec Queen is a delicacy on some planets."

"They call him Tech." Cody told them.

"Yeah, he can fill your head with useless info for hours." Hunter explained, his amber eyes drifted away from Cody back to you. "Crosshair, on the other hand, is not much of a conversationalist, but when you have to hit a precise target from ten klicks, Crosshair’s your man." Hunter paused, and you took a moment to compose yourself before introducing yourself. "It's a pleasure, General."

"The pleasure's mine, Sergeant."

There was a small silence after that, and you swallowed visibley at the tension. You were a Jedi, you always knew how to interact with people without making things awkward... that was pretty much your entire job before the Clone Wars started. So why were you finding it so hard now?

"So, Commander, what kind of suicide mission do you have for us this time?" Hunter finally spoke, tearing his eyes away from glancing up and down your body to look at Cody. Cody cleared his throat, and began explaining the mission as you felt a small elbow on the back from Kix and Jesse. You turned around to see both clones sporting knowing smirks, and causing you to roll your eyes and shove both of their chest plates softly, nearly groaning at their antics.

"Let’s get going, men." You interrupted. "We’ll brief you on the way. There's no time to waste."

Now, standing in behind of Hunter as he suddenly froze, the only movement in the room being the flickering of a candle on a table and the slightest tremble of Hunter's body as he stopped, immobilised in a slightly crouching position.

"Hunter?"

The former sergeant didn't respond, only trembled slightly. Although you had cut yourself off from most of the force, using it being too dangerous after the events of Order 66, you could feel how his force signature was suddenly sucked out of him, as if he hadn't even existed in the first place.

"Hunter, what's wrong?"

Hunter slowly, almost cautiously stood up from his crouched position, not turning around, but still trembling.

"Hunter?" You quickly approached him, worry coursing through your veins as you placed a soft hand on his shoulder plate, frowning further when he still didn't turn around. "Just... wait a moment. I'll call Tech." You dialed in the com-channel with your free hand, one hand still resting on the former sergeant shoulder, not noticing at all that the trembling had ceased. "Here we go." Your smiled slightly in relief when Tech's voice's, but your heart immediately stopped when you focused in on what he was saying as he called out your name urgently.

"I've figured out the reason for the headaches." Tech was saying, his speech rapid and stressed. It was the most panicked you had ever heard him before. "It's his chip. You have to get out of there, now!"

Before you could react, Hunter turned around at the speed of light and pushed you so hard you were sent flying backwards into the opposite wall, the communication device . If it weren't for your slightly enhanced senses that being force-sensitive had granted you, there would've been at least three knives embedded in your body before you even had the chance to move. Luckily, you were flexible and able to move fast enough to grab two of his knives from the wall, one in each hand, and defend yourself when Hunter suddenly appeared beside you, slashing his vibro-blades in precise arcs towards you, only to be either dodged or stopped by the knives that you had stolen from him.

After a couple of minutes of defending yourself, you were beginning to tire out. It wasn't because Hunter was an extremely difficult opponent -you had faced Grievous during the war with only one lightsaber to fight against his countless ones, which you still considered your hardest duel to this day - but because you couldn't bring yourself to fight back. It was a one-sided duel.

"Hunter-" you tried, only to be cut off by dodging another strike. "Hunter, please-"

There was no response, only the continued whooshing of air that followed Hunter's calculated attacks. Slowly tiring out, you realised that you had to make your escape before things got bad. Slowly retreating, you gasped in pain as Hunter's knife finally made contact with its target, slicing diagonally across from your chin across your cheek. Dropping one of the knives instinctively to place a hand on your cheek, you couldn't make a sound as you felt Hunter kick the knife out of your other hand and wrap his arm around your neck from behind, slowly forcing your air supply to drop as you struggled in his grip.

"Hunter-"

"Your survival is in direct violation to Order 66," Hunter stated, and even though his voice sounded more emotionless than you had ever heard it before, you heard the slightest tremble in his voice... and that gave you hope.

Hunter's grip around your neck tightened, causing the world around you to slowly begin to dim as the corners of your vision turned black. In a final attempt, you closed your eyes, concentrating on the feeling of him around you as you delved into the Force for the first timed in what seemed like centuries, finding his mind and projecting your voice.

"HUNTER!"

Immediately, the former sergeant let out a sharp gasp in surprise as his arms loosened around you and he clutched at his head, as if trying to get the sound of your voice out. Taking the opportunity, you bolted towards the nearest window, not looking back as you quickly made your descent into the busy streets below, blending into the crowd to ensure that Hunter wouldn't find you.

...

"It's a risk-"

"A risk worth taking."

You were gathered in a small huddle inside the Marauder as Tech was giving his brief. It had been two weeks since Hunter's inhibitor chip had activated, even though you had all believed that it had been taken out. Tech told you that since Hunter was the last to remove his chip, the technology on the crashed Jedi cruiser might not have successfully removed all of the remnants, giving the Empire control over his mind.

You had been worried sick about him. What if Hunter had been killed by the Empire upon his return? Realistically, you knew the Empire wouldn't waste what they saw as a 'valuable asset', but you couldn't help but stress as your hand reached up to brush against the scar that had formed on the cut that Hunter had made on your face. When you returned to the Marauder, the bacta patch hadn't been applied quick enough and the wound was too deep not to scar. The bruises around your neck were just fading.

The Marauder had been your home for a while now. After Order 66, you had bumped into the Bad Batch coincidentally while they were on some sort of mission for their new employer, some lizard named Cid. You didn't really like Cid, so you had asked them not to reveal your identity to her. Ever since then, there was always a place on the ship for you. There were two spare bunks, which was perfect for you and Omega.

"I don't like this plan..." Omega spoke up, her wide-blown brown eyes filled with concern. "This puts everyone in danger."

"We're always in danger-" you were cut off as Omega continued.

"Especially you." Omega exclaimed, staring at you pleadingly. You sighed as you bent down on one knee in front of the small clone.

"Hey... we're going to be okay," you promised with a small smile. "We're always okay. Aren't we, boys?" Echo shrugged, Wrecker nodded his head enthusiastically, Crosshair continued polishing his rifle, and Tech shook his head. "Wow. Thanks to Wrecker and only Wrecker."

"You got it!"

"I'll keep an eye on our sarad," Crosshair told Omega, who didn't look a bit less stressed. Sarad, meaning flower in Mando'a, was the Batch's nickname for you. It had become more common to use the nickname than your real name, at this point.

"See?" You told Omega. "I'll be fine. Promise." Omega's eyes darted around the room as if looking for support, but each of her brother's expressions were just as determined as yours.

"We're going to get Hunter back safely." Echo exclaimed, and the rest of the Batch nodded in approval, even Crosshair gave the slightest bob of the head. At that, Omega sighed as she quickly ran over to you, still on one knee. She wrapped her arms around you tightly, and you returned the hug effortlessly. As a Jedi, you didn't really hug people often. You supposed this was one of the good things that came with the end of the Order - freedom with your own emotions.

"Stay safe," Omega whispered in your ear.

"Always."

...

Walking through the dense forest of some planet on the edges of the Outer Rim, you held on tightly to the blaster that you had brought with you. The plan to get Hunter back was simple. Tech had tracked Hunter down. He had returned to the Empire and was now in full service, going on missions to hunt down the remaining Jedi. As far as you knew, he hadn't caught any so far, but he would've informed the Empire of your survival.

Tech's plan was for you to go in alone, this time fully equipped if a fight broke out. He would stay with the Marauder nearby while Echo and Wrecker distracted the team that Hunter was sent with and Crosshair found a sniper's nest somewhere and watched your backs. All you had to do was stun Hunter with your blaster and bring him back to the Marauder so that Tech could perform a surgery to remove what remained of the Inhibitor chip.

As you continued to make your way through the forest, stopping at a clearing, you could feel his presence behind you. You had known that he was following you for a while, but you wanted to wait for him to attack first. What was curious was that he didn't. As you made your way to the middle of the small clearing, you turned on your heel to face him.

And there he was.

The trees cast a shadow over his body, and the only light that illuminated either one of them was the dual white moons that slowly moved over the clear night sky. You tightened your grip on your blaster as you stared at him.

Hunter's black and red armour had been replaced by clean grey armour, with no embellishments whatsoever. Your nose scrunched up at that. The Empire was disgusting for not letting its soldiers have personality... or control over their own minds.

Surprisingly, Hunter began to speak first. "It seems as if you came to me."

"What gave it away?" You retorted.

"A miscalculated decision on your behalf," Hunter continued as if he hadn't heard you. You shook your head at the way he was speaking. Hunter didn't talk like this... "You were quite easy to track, but it almost seemed as if you wanted me to find you."

"Hunter," You pleaded, a wave of emotion suddenly crashing over you. "Please. We just want you to come home."

"Home," Hunter mused mockingly, his head tilting to the side. Even through his grey helmet, you could feel his cold gaze on you. "What an idiotic thought-"

"It's not," You cut him off. "You have a home, and it's with us! With your Batch, and Omega, and..." you swallowed visibly. "And me." Hunter remained silent as you slowly took a step towards him, then another. And another.

"Don't think I didn't notice all those times you called me those nicknames." You continued as you got closer and closer. "Mesh'la, cyar'ika... I asked Echo what they meant and he said they were names that Mandalorians used to call their loved ones." You let out a quiet laugh. You were less than five feet away from him now. "And I don't know how exactly you feel about me, but I know how I feel about you." You sighed stopped directly in front of him. "Jedi's aren't supposed to form attachments, or feel things, or say these things to others but... I'm not a Jedi anymore. The Order is long gone, and I'm free to say whatever the kriff I want." There was a short pause. "Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum."

Both of you let out a quiet gasp at the same time, as Hunter immediately fell backwards and collapsed on the floor, the blue stun bolt shining across his body before dissipating into the air. You felt the blinding pain before you saw it. Two vibro-blades had pierced through your armour at strategic points, because Hunter knew where the weak spots in your armour were. One blade was in your stomach, and another was right in your heart.

You let out a choked breath as you stumbled back, helplessly trying to stop the flow of blood as you collapsed on your knees and landed on your side on the grass. You tasted iron as blood slowly began to fill your mouth from internal wounds. Hunter knew exactly where he stabbed you.

Somewhere in the distance, you swore you could hear Crosshair yelling at his brothers, telling them that you were hit, that you were down, but you felt yourself not caring as you began to feel... nothing.

The last thing you did was turn to see Hunter's fallen body and pray that the Batch was close enough to rescue the one that you had fallen for before the darkness came to bring you home.

"Why'd you have to lead me on? Why'd you have to twist the knife? Walk away and leave me bleeding, bleeding? Why'd you whisper in the dark? Just to leave me in the night? Now your silence has me screaming, screaming" - Say Don't Go (Taylor Swift)

end

... or is it? should i do a part 2? comment or jump in my requests if you want one! this is my first star wars fic so please be kind!! xx dreamtheatre requests are open!!

[merumis]

kuroo loves thunderstorms.

the first time he tells you this, he's standing just before the threshold of your balcony—the door cracked open but the screen still closed, feeling the wind curl its way around your building.

it's early november and he's wearing a sweater you gifted him last christmas. you bought it two sizes too big and he insisted on wearing it again the moment the weather started to get colder anyway. it's a rich blue and warm and soft enough that you constantly find yourself leaning into him—on the couch, in public, even before your balcony's screen door—sometimes you wonder if he wears it just for that.

between that and the way your cat swirls around his feet, his tail dragging along kuroo's calf, he seems to almost melt into your apartment. your first place post-grad, that weird mix of childhood, college, and new-adult decor muddling the whole of it: a couch that you got at a discount furniture store but fell in love with anyway; stuffed animals your friends send you every birthday; a childhood favorite of a book sitting on an old thrifted coffee table, a dark oak that you wouldn't be able to afford otherwise.

and kuroo. warm, thunderstorm-watching kuroo, whose mug of herbal tea has been long forgotten on one of your homemade coasters.

you're never quite sure what to call him. the man you sleep with some nights; the guy who will always match your halloween costume if you ask; your cat's favorite of your friends; the name your grandmother keeps asking you about every time you call. you know you told you him you loved him once—really loved him—in some drunken college stupor that feels more like watching a movie from across an open-concept's kitchen island than a memory now.

(that's a lie. you know every detail. the rum warm in your throat, being fresh off the high of his birthday. it was the first snow of the season but the rain the next day mingled with it and turned it to muck that ruined your favorite pair of boots. his breath was hot against your cheeks, the stoop of his apartment building a hollowly adored wind tunnel that decorated your instagram—stone chipped away at the corners, moss growing up the sides, a buzzer that only worked if you pressed the button three times. you kissed him like you always have and his nose was cold as it pressed into your cheek. you whispered it to him and he laughed. you didn't text him for three days.)

there's a familiar pull at your tongue now. a burst of lightning briefly illuminates your apartment and is then followed by the crack of thunder.

"you should probably close the door," you say—instead of i love you.

kuroo shrugs, turns back with a lazy smile on his face. "if you say so," he replies, like every word is a game that the two of you play. he swings the door closed and twists the lock shut. he moves in a way you want to describe as "moseying" tonight, like all of his limbs are relaxed four times more than they should be.

"you should stay here tonight," you tell him as he moves to your couch. your cat follows after him, pawing up his leg as he sits down. he jumps up and settles deep into his lap—there's a brief moment where you envy him. "rain and all."

"so you're telling me i brought my umbrella for nothing?" he teases.

you laugh. "you can use it on the balcony."

he has a pair of sweatpants in your top right drawer of your dresser. you reluctantly washed them last week after spilling apricot jam on the third wear. you never choose to dwell on how a pair of sweatpants gets left at your apartment—you can imagine what his answer would be.

kuroo hums, "it's almost like you want me here."

"i don't," you lie, "just figured my apartment had a better storm view with how much you've been lingering." his apartment is about four stories higher, a few blocks down—closer to his work. it has more windows, a larger living room, a leather couch that you can feel sticking to your bare back if you close your eyes.

it's the better view. it gets fog in the early mornings so you can only see the bounce of headlights from the street below. his bedsheets like to twist between your legs at night in a way that pulls them from the mattress, though—so you suppose you always win there.

"it's homey here," he replies, and you feel the smile tugging up at your lips, "smells like spruce." he eyes the candle he bought you on your kitchen counter, lit and melted to the edges. three wicks, because he knows it's your favorite.

the candle, your favorite expensive lamp your professor gifted you last summer, and the range hood are the only lights in your apartment at the moment. kuroo calls them homey, you call them headache-reducing.

he pulls a hand away from your cat to gesture towards you over the back of the couch now. a palm upwards towards the ceiling, fingers outstretched in a subtle beckoning of your own. your tongue curls with that sickly desire as you step towards him, slip your fingers into his as you round the couch, settling into the cushions as his arm slides across your shoulders.

you reach up to play with his fingers—absent-mindedly. you swore you would do better when you graduated, that maybe things would start to fall into place and, for once, you wouldn't find yourself chasing after a man you could have if you would just allow it to happen.

but you don't know how to say i love you on a thursday—because you swear friday will feel right. you don't say it friday because it's too young, a whole weekend ahead of you that you can't mess up. a movie on saturday, brunch on sunday. you don't say it sunday night because you won't see him until wednesday, but then you catch him for happy hour on tuesday. and you don't know how to to say it.

"you know my grandfather loved spruce," kuroo says, and you look over to catch his eye. he's staring out at your coffee table, looking at nothing in particular as he speaks. "he used to whittle—before arthritis and tremors and whatever—but his dad told him that spruce was the hardest to work with. something about how soft it is or the grain or whatever." he shifts with your cat, letting him crawl up his arm onto the back of the couch. his tail falls over kuroo's shoulder, and now you get the curl into him a little more.

he pulls you closer before you really get the chance to move.

"but he always loved spruce. the smell, the needles, the look, all of it, you know? it was just one of those things, so he learned to whittle with it.

"and when he met my grandmother, he started whittling her all these little things. a duck for their first date, a wooden box for her jewelry, eventually toy blocks, when she was pregnant with my dad." kuroo pauses, and for a while, you think you have something stuck in your chest. you thumb traces up his forefinger and he catches your hand, finally moving to look you in the eyes.

"it's nice to come here and remember him sometimes."

there's another burst of lightning and it crackles across the whole sky behind him, dodging in and out of buildings and making the texture of the clouds pop out against the whole open expanse of it all.

his breath is hot against your skin, his ears are tinged with a bit of red and for a moment you consider running to your thermostat to turn it down a few degrees, but then his lips find yours like they always do.

and in the muddle of lips, you don't even think before you whisper an i love you, murmured into his mouth as his nose traces frigid shapes against your own.

you don't have to listen to know he says it back—though you do, listening for the timbre of his voice and feeling the vibrato of it against your throat—but you can smell it, you can hear it, some days, you can taste it.

spruce-scented candles, thunderstorms that make the whole city colder, the burning of rum against the back of your throat.

you think you can feel it: leather that sticks to your skin, hands that only whittled while his grandfather was alive, but are calloused anyway, a sweater that you'd buy him in the right size if he asked.

you tell someone you love them without ever saying the words. you know he drinks three drinks at happy hour and you only have one—he insists on walking you home anyway and he always stays the night.

and you know he never brought an umbrella, that he works from home tomorrow and his laptop is sitting in his backpack next to your door.

you know that he's warm, that he's kissing you, and that he told you he loves you on the thursday evening as a thunderstorm turned into rain and fog.

[callsignserpent]

🥃 𝕆𝕗 ��𝕙𝕚𝕤𝕜𝕖𝕪 𝔸𝕟𝕕 𝕎𝕙𝕚𝕞𝕤🥃

💀'GHOST' RILEY X READER ONESHOT💀

It was only supposed to be a quiet evening alone out at the bar after exfil... until a chance encounter left Simon 'Ghost' Riley's head and heart entangled....

• fluff; angst; language; brief mentions of violence/blood

He'd never forget that voice, not for a while.

"Table for one?"

You'd approached him with no fear, no hesitation... and it'd stuck with him ever since.

Ghost takes a seat at the table, leaning back with a sigh, the sound deeper than all the countless lives that were currently weighing on his conscience, his very soul.

It was ironic, really.

Here he sat, bearing the callsign 'Ghost', and yet... the very reason he took up the name in the first place, was the same reason his thoughts, his dreams, his nearly every waking moment were being haunted.

Funny how the past has a way of eventually catching up to oneself...

"Your usual, mate?"

The quiet voice of the bartender briefly pulls Ghost from the dark chasm of his thoughts, and he gives a wordless nod, tired eyes watching the bartender disappear back behind the counter.

It'd been the same routine for the past few months now, a sort of downward spiral.

Infil, mission, exfil, post-op, drink... no sleep.

Infil, mission, exfil, post-op, drink... no sleep.

And the voices, the faces.

Ghost didn't know which was worse: the fact that he hardly slept anymore, or the fact that when he was lucky enough to be able to close his eyes, all he could see were the countless thousands of faces who'd died at his hands.

People who, like him, had once had a family, friends, loved ones... but no more.

Because of him... the Ghost of 141.

Jaw tensing, Ghost lets his fingers curl into an idle fist atop the worn wooden table, only loosing them momentarily when the bartender returns with his usual: glass of straight whiskey, on the rocks, leave the bottle.

It'd quickly become both his favorite and worst vice, the one poison he knew he could drown his thoughts and conscience in.

Reaching forward, Ghost's fingers curl around the glass, shadowed eyes narrowing above his mask as they stare through the amber liquid and the ice, as if looking for an answer, a prayer... a way out.

But that was just it: there was no way out.

There was something his Captain had said once, and it'd stuck with him ever since.

"We get our hands dirty so the world can stay clean..."

But how much more blood would spill on his hands, how many more faces would he have to see behind closed eyes, before it'd be enough?

Jaw tensing again, Ghost brings the glass up to his mouth, lifting the edge of the mask just enough to swallow down a mouthful of whiskey.

He didn't even feel the burn of it in his throat anymore, having grown numb to it.

If only the same could be said for his conscience, for the guilt and the memories...

Another mouthful of whiskey, another bitter memory gets swallowed down, the pain sharp like glass, cutting away at his insides-

"Table for one?"

That voice, so soft spoken, so warm...

It catches him off guard for a moment, and his head snaps up, brown eyes narrowing as he reaches up to adjust his mask back into place, fingers working to set the glass of whiskey down a little more harshly than he intends to.

You stand there before him, such a quiet little thing, eyes watching him almost expectantly, yet there's an undertone of patience there too, an old soul-

A soft clearing of your throat has Ghost's jaw twitching momentarily beneath the mask, and he realizes two entire minutes have came and gone while he's sat here, glaring up at you.

"Table for one?" you ask him again, softer this time, one slim brow quirking up at him.

The way you ask him, so unabashedly, ever so patient with him- it has his gaze softening, and before he knows what he's doing, what he's saying, what the fuck is he saying, don't-

"Sit."

The word comes out quiet, gruff.

And you do exactly that.

You work with nimble fingers to unfasten the buttons on your black coat, revealing a hint of red beneath, and you take a seat in the chair opposite him, and you smile at him-

Fucking hell, the way you smile at him-

It makes Ghost's chest ache, the feeling raw and unfamiliar and different from the usual ache.

A beat or two of silence passes by, a serene ocean of unspoken thoughts and feelings and how-do-you-do's, until-

"You look... lonely."

The observation, spoken so gently in that way that you have, it makes a muscle in Ghost's jaw tic briefly.

"M'not."

But it's a lie, and he knows it, and he wonders for a split second if perhaps you know it, as well.

Shadowed eyes watch the bar patrons, inked hands bring that whiskey glass back up to his mouth, fingers lifting the bottom edge of his mask to swallow down the poison, swallow down the hurt, bury it all-

"I've seen you in here before, you know..."

And those fingers tighten on the whiskey glass, tense and almost afraid to let go-

"You're alone this time. Something's different... your friends, they're back at base. They don't know you're here, do they?"

And it's not so much the way you say it, more so what you've said, that gets him.

The whiskey glass nearly slips from his hand, until a second hand comes into view, catching the fall, fingers brushing against his, and fuck, the warmth-

"What did you just say?"

The words come out a little more biting than he intends, British accent thick and voice all gravelly, full of accusations and hurt and wariness-

"You... you're military? Aren't you?"

You ask him so softly, unflinching and determined to keep this going, to keep him going...

"You don't sit and stare into your own soul and try and drown it like this, unless you've seen things, things you're not supposed to see. You're military?" There's that question again...

And before he can stop himself, Ghost is nodding, and letting you take the glass from him with gentle hands to bring it up to your lips, those haunted eyes of his watching as you take a sip from the glass, his glass-

"British army. Price's unit, yes? He comes in here sometimes with his team. Did you know, one of them goes by the name 'Soap'?"

The way you're sitting here in front of him, rambling on about his teammates, his Captain...

Despite himself, one corner of Ghost's mouth twitches up for a second at the mention of his best mate.

"Aye. Johnny. He's a good one."

The words roll off his tongue so quiet, a world of weight concealed behind them.

Johnny had been with him from the beginning, had seen and felt the weight of their work, the effect it'd had on his friend.

There was many a night where Johnny would sit here with him, the two of them drinking away the pain and the loss and the bloodshed... but tonight wasn't one of those.

No, tonight Ghost was alone with his conscience, his guilt, his soul.

Or at least, he had been.

"Hey. Look at me? Please?"

Such a gentle way you have of speaking to him, but why was there a touch of sadness there-

And before he can stop himself, Ghost is looking up, brown eyes meeting yours, letting you see and feel the gravity of what he'd felt ever since he took up this job...

He could swear he hears your breath hitch, in this quiet little corner of the bar, where two lonely souls sit opposite each other-

"It weighs on you, doesn't it? What they ask you to do, the things you've seen, heard...?"

"Not all rainbows and easy A's and sunshine, Miss...?"

"Y/N." You answer him with that look in your eyes again, such gentleness there.

"Y/N."

Ghost echoes the name, letting it roll off his tongue, and it tastes and burns sweeter than any poison this bar could ever offer him.

"Y/N," he starts, voice heavy with the weight of what he's about to say, "my job-"

But then his voice hitches in the back of his throat, and he has to swallow hard to keep going, oh fucking hell, he needs to keep going-

"I know."

The interruption comes so quietly, he almost doesn't hear it at first.

You know? What does that mean, you know, what the hell could you possibly know about what he deals with, what he is-?

Brown eyes narrow above the skull mask he wears, not to protect himself, no, but to remind others of what lies at his core, the darkness there, a warning of sorts, 'don't get too close'...

"You... are not your job."

Ghost's head snaps up, eyes widening, searching yours for an answer, a sign-

"What the fuck are you sa-"

"You. Are. Not. Your. Job."

The way you're leaning forward in your chair, eyes staring into his like you're trying to gauge his soul, to see what lies deep within-

"You're the one they call 'Ghost', yes? And yet... it haunts you. All of it. I can see that it does. But... you are not your job."

You sit in a quiet sort of contemplation for a moment, swilling the amber liquid around in the whiskey glass you still hold clutched between your fingers, before bringing it up to your lips, swallowing down the alcohol.

The quiet clink of the empty glass against the table is like a reflection of Ghost's being, his heart, the very core of who he thinks he is, who he's let himself become: hollow, empty, a mere shell of his former self.

But then your hands are working so gently to refill the glass, and there's more warmth there, more poison to drown it all down with, only something is different this time, it's... perhaps not quite as bitter and scorching and hateful as he'd allowed himself to believe...

And when you offer him the full glass, he accepts it with a trembling hand, fingers working to lift the edge of the mask that hides his scars, the ones he keeps on the outside, and the liquid finally burns as it runs down the back of his throat, but it's a different burn this time...

"You know it, don't you? You can see it? That you're more than just a name, a callsign, a weapon to be used... more than a job?

"What they would have you do, the blood you've spilled, the faces you have to see for the rest of your life... you're more than all of that. Please tell me you know that...?"

"M'trying-" the words come out strained, almost pleading, and for a moment, Ghost isn't entirely sure who he's actually trying to convince: you, or... himself.

"I know you are, and I see that. I see you. Please... in all the thousands of lives that have probably died at your hands, don't- don't let your own sit among their ranks."

His hands...

Ghost's gaze drops to rest on his hands, the muscles and tendons and ink stained with the blood he can't see, with the weight of each and every life he'd snuffed out at his fingertips.

And then a second set of hands, your hands, so small and warm and alive-

They take one of his between them, fingers folding over his, a silent reassurance, a promise, a simple 'I see you, I've got you'...

"Breathe."

Your eyes search his once more, and he can't look, but he has to, he knows he has to, and now he can't look away, and he's trying, he really is, but it hurts, his chest aches again-

"Breathe, Ghost. I know it's a lot. I know it's heavy, it weighs. But you can't let it..."

Those fingers give his a soft squeeze, a silent plea to hold on, just a little longer...

"We are more than the weight of our wars."

Those words...

'We are more than the weight of our wars...'

Those words, and the way you sit here across from him, the way you look at him, see him, truly see him, it's too much, and yet not enough, all at once.

Something inside of Ghost breaks.

Every single wall he's so carefully crafted within and around himself, not to keep others out, but to keep himself inside, to keep the darkness inside... all of it crumbles.

And this time, when you offer him the glass of whiskey, a cure to drown it all... he refuses.

His brows furrow, eyes narrowing and then widening and then narrowing yet again above his mask, his mind trying desperately to come to terms with the onslaught of emotions and denial and guilt and hurt and acceptance-

"Walk with me?"

You ask the question so softly, so sweetly, he couldn't say no even if he wanted to, but that's just it, he doesn't want to-

Ghost finds himself nodding, the harsh scrape of the chairs against the floor briefly grating against his nerves, there's a light rattling of coins being dropped onto the worn wooden tabletop, payment for the bartender playing host to his pain tonight-

And yet through it all, your hand remains firmly clasped around his, fingers lightly tapping against the back of his inked, worn hand.

The still half-full glass of whiskey remains abandoned on the table, bottle perched next to it, chairs lying open and ready for the next few ghosts of the past and present to sit and mourn.

A muscle in Ghost's jaw tics as he follows you outside, thunder rumbling in the distance, the clouds gathered in the velveteen night sky above heavy with the promise of rain.

"Home?" you ask softly.

Home...

Was he ready to go back yet? Ready to face all of that, another sleepless night?

"No."

Ghost's voice is quiet, gruff, a heavy sigh trailing after the single syllable.

"No?"

"No. Stay."

Two syllables this time, less harsh.

"Stay... with me. Please." Three.

He knows he shouldn't expect it, but somehow a small part of him remains hopeful...

And you do. You stay.

Such a small thing you are, tugging him by the hand down the sidewalk, until he eventually falls into step beside you, two souls on a sidewalk in the mid-October night.

Thunder rumbles again in the distance, louder this time, and as Ghost casts a look up at the skies, rain begins to fall from the velvet abyss that lies above.

And all too soon, the sound of your laughter is reaching his ears, and he's being pulled along the sidewalk again, hurrying to keep up with you as the heavens weep, the downpour soaking through the hood of his black denim jacket, the fabric of his mask.

More laughter reaches his ears, and somehow, the voices and faces that had been haunting his every thought tonight slowly fade for a little bit, lost in the light that is you-

"Here, here, quick-!"

Those words are all the warning he gets before Ghost is being tugged into a side alleyway, the rain a little less harsh here, the downpour a bit more forgiving.

More laughter rings out, echoing down the brick walls of the alley, and Ghost is a little surprised to find his own deep voice among the sound, joining yours.

"Fucking hell-"

The gruffly spoken swear words are followed by a brief pause, a momentary lapse of silence with only the rain as a backdrop, until the two of you are laughing again, and your hand is slipping from his as you dart to the edge of the alley, watching the other poor souls get caught up in the downpour.

Shadowed eyes watch as you wait until unsuspecting souls pass by the mouth of the alleyway, so you can kick up puddles of rainwater towards them, and the very sight has one corner of Ghost's mouth lifting up in a smirk beneath his mask.

And somehow, the longer he watches you, the more that smirk eventually becomes a full-blown grin, until he's laughing, striding forward and tugging you away from the puddles, deeper into the alleyway.

"You little menace-!" he's laughing.

And oh, how it feels so good to be able to laugh, for the first time in what feels like months, years, even-

And that ache in his chest has returned, only this time, it's much more different, sweeter, somehow...

But then all too soon, his boot is slipping out from under him as he takes a step back and he's falling towards the asphalt, and oh, fuck, your hand is still in his, oh no, what has he done-

And you land atop him, practically straddling him in the alleyway, staring down at him with those eyes of yours, fucking christ...

Ghost swallows hard, staring up at you, the rain soaking his face and likely making his eyeblack run everywhere, but in this moment, he couldn't care less, because the way you're looking down at him, the way you see him-

Perhaps it's just the whisper of the wind, but he could swear he hears your breath hitch, like earlier in the bar, as your eyes drop down to stare at his masked mouth, lingering for a touch too long before you're looking up at him again-

"Y/N-" he whispers, his hands finding yours and moving them up towards the bottom edge of his mask, letting you pull it up to see the scars that reside there, to see the real him...

There's a very deep part of himself that is terrified of how you'll react once you see the darkness that is him, once you see what lies within, what's at the very root of his core.

But then you lean down towards him, and before he can stop himself, he's leaning up to meet you halfway, his mouth finding yours and moving almost urgently against yours, as if he's only got a few moments' time left.

And it certainly feels that way, or maybe, just maybe, it feels like time itself stops for the two of you here in this alleyway-

The softest of groans looses itself from your pretty little mouth and fuck, if it isn't the sweetest sound Ghost has heard in his life.

He groans in response, the noise a deep rumble in the back of his throat, and he's sitting up, pulling you into his lap, one worn, inked hand moving to wind his fingers through your hair, tugging softly-

"Ghost, fuck-"

Your little whisper, your gasp, the way your mouth moves against his to form the words, has a shiver running down his spine, a feeling that has absolutely nothing to do with the slight chill of the mid-October evening.

"Simon-" he corrects you, shaking his head.

"Simon..." you repeat it.

The sound of his name, his real name, coming out of your mouth like that, it sets his soul ablaze, warmth trickling down his spine and bleeding into his bones, his heart.

"Say it again, please," he's begging.

And you comply only too easily.

"Simon..."

His mouth claims yours again with a deep groan, hips moving to rut against yours, free hand gripping your thigh until your hand comes down to rest atop his, holding on tightly.

"Simon, fuck- please please please..."

Ghost isn't entirely sure what it is you're asking him for, what you're begging for, but all he knows is from this moment on, he'll never get enough of you saying his name like that, like it's your lifeline, like it's the only word you know...

"Anything, love-"

The endearment slips out before he can stop it, and when you whisper "You? Please?" he's shaking his head at first, because he doesn't understand, how can you want that, want him, you just met him, you don't know what that darkness is like-

But then you're moving your hands to take his face between them, breaking the kiss to lock eyes with him, brows furrowing as you whisper a single word, a single little syllable-

"Please."

And the very last wall that Ghost had so carefully crafted for himself all those years since, it crumbles to nothing more than dust at your hands, your eyes, the way you see him, feel him, the way you want him.

And he's nodding, eyes falling closed as your mouth finds his again, whispering a softly spoken "Let me in" to which he finds himself answering with an equally soft-spoken "Always, love.."

Thunder rumbles in the distance, a quiet audience to the pain and the acceptance and the warmth between the two lonely souls caught up in an alleyway, the rain having stopped a good while ago.

And it's only when you're finally pulling him by the hand to his feet, your small hand clasped within his own, that Ghost finds himself able to breathe, to truly breathe, for the first time in what feels like a very long time.

"Home...?" you ask him, for the second time that night. But this time, he's ready.

"Home." he agrees, his tone soft and gentle.

And later that night, as he's lying back in his bed in the barracks, staring at his phone, the name 'Y/N' now in his contacts list, your number below it... Ghost knows tonight won't be a night spent haunted by the faces of the past.

No... tonight the only face he'd see behind closed eyes would be yours, full of warmth and light and love...

Tonight, the Ghost of 141 would finally rest.

🥃 𝕋𝕎𝕆 𝕎𝔼𝔼𝕂𝕊 𝕃𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ 🥃

"Nah, mate, I'm tellin' ye, next time he wants to show his ugly mug, he's mine!" the familiar Scottish voice rings out in the bar, followed by a round of laughter and agreement.

Ghost shoots Johnny a grin beneath the mask, the edges of it visible as his brown eyes crinkle at the corners. He raises his glass of bourbon in a toast, before lifting the bottom edge of his mask to swallow down the liquor.

It'd been two weeks since he'd last drowned his sorrows and his pain, and he'd abandoned his former poison, the whiskey, ever since, having chosen to move on to better, more promising things, something of substance and warmth, something that would be nicer to him.

Shadowed eyes glance down at the glass as he adjusts his mask back into place, staring down thoughtfully at the amber liquid and the ice... until a familiar voice sounds from nearby, causing a smile to break out beneath his mask.

He'd never forget that voice, not for a while.

"Table for one?"

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